


Boyfriend Material

by Speechless



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Chef Harry, Cooking Lessons, M/M, Slutty Louis, Top Harry, larry stylinson - Freeform, light slut shaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speechless/pseuds/Speechless
Summary: What really fucks with his head is the fact that Nick Grimshaw didn't just lie and disguise his evil plan as a birthday present.He didn't simply force Louis into his little psychological torture despite his efforts to keep that from happening.He didn't even stop after involving another innocent person into his cruel game.He alsopaidHarry Styles, a handsome, charming, young chef, so he would teach Louis how to cook.He told Harry Styles which days Louis works the morning shift and that's why Harry Styles knocks on his door every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.* So basically Nick bets Louis he can't go two months without sex. And then he introduces Harry to him. Because he's the Devil*





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little something to have fun (both me and you, hopefully), mixing my favorite things: Larry Stylinson and food <3
> 
> Also, this is for my friend Jamie <3  
> I hope it lifts your mood whenever you feel down <3 <3 <3

"You get treated like a slut," Nick says to him, stirring his drink with his finger. "because you act like a slut."  
  
Louis throws a peanut in his glass then, 'cause he kinda asked for it.  
  
"Coming from you it's more of a compliment." he spits out, shifting on the uncomfortable booth.  
  
The night looks so dead he's regretting not turning to that booty call he ignored.  
  
Nick shrugs, emptying his glass - peanut included - and taking Louis' beer out of his hand.  
  
"Pretty boys can smell a slut from miles away." he continues, taking a sip from the bottle and making a disgusted face right after he swallows.  
  
Louis would like to have his beer back, thank you.  
  
"Then they must be in line out here, waiting for you." he shoots back. "Cocksucker."  
  
Nick blows him a kiss, he takes another sip of his beer, he makes another disgusted face.  
  
"Order a glass of wine." he suggests, crossing his long legs. "It's the classy choice."  
  
"Who said I care about being classy?"  
  
Nick shakes his head at him, he turns around for a moment and when he looks at him again, Louis realizes his not-very-classy beer is resting at the bottom of the trash can.  
  
Nick is gonna pay for his next one. No doubt about that.  
  
"My sweet, slutty Louis," Nick says, gesturing for the waitress to come closer. "Remember this morning, when you cried-"  
  
"I didn't cry." Louis cuts him off, slapping a hand on the table.  
  
Nick ignores him.  
  
"When you cried your heart out after Liam dumped you?"  
  
Louis wants to scratch his eyes out.  
  
"Remember what your wise friend told you?" Nick insists, leaning forward like he can't wait for Louis' answer.  
  
Louis shrugs.  
  
"Let's get pissed drunk and find you another one." he says, as his mind flies back to that potential booty call.  
  
Nick frowns at him.  
  
"No, the other thing."  
  
Louis thinks about it then. Nick tells him a lot of things because Nick hardly shuts up. The other thing could be anything, really.  
  
"Bring your cute Pakistani friend and leave when I give you the signal?"  
  
Nick sighs.  
  
"The other thing."  
  
Louis is done. He drags his nails across Nick's arm and he only stops when Nick lets out that little girly scream he was waiting for.  
  
"Fucking animal." Nick insults him. "You can't get a boyfriend if you don't turn into boyfriend material, first. _That_ fucking thing."  
  
Oh, that one. Louis forgot about that one.  
  
"I never said I want a boyfriend." he clarifies, putting his jacket back on. "But I am boyfriend material." he argues, shutting his mouth when the waitress finally walks to their table.  
  
Nick orders him a glass of white wine.  
  
So Louis is a depressed, unemployed mother of three, now.  
  
Nick raises his eyebrows.  
  
"Yeah?" he challenges. "What makes you boyfriend material?"  
  
Louis already hates that expression.  
  
But he has a list ready.  
  
"I'm hot, I'm fun, I take care of myself, I'm good in bed, I live on my own, I never ask for anything and I am fucking adorable."  
  
Nick gives him a slow clap.  
  
Louis still wants to scratch his eyes out, by the way.  
  
He sips on his wine out of utter frustration.  
  
"You put out on the first date." Nick reminds him. "You little, independent, adorable slut."  
  
Louis feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, he reads the incoming text just to catch a break.  
  
As it turns out, it's the booty call guy, giving it another shot.  
  
"What if I eat your ass?" he says.  
  
Maybe Nick has a point, after all.

  
  


 

Not that there's anything wrong with being a slut.  
  
Actually, the people who are brave enough to embrace their inner slut, waste less time being sexually frustrated and that is definitely the key to happiness.  
  
Well, maybe not _the_ key. But probably one of the keys to happiness - there must be more than one, come on.  
  
Louis is still thinking about what Nick told him and it drives him crazy. He thought he couldn't get under his skin anymore, at this point.  
  
But he's been at work for an hour and his brain has been counting all the people there who saw his cock and the numbers aren't looking so good for him right now.  
  
In his defense, he works in a big hotel.  
  
Lots of rooms, lots of clients, lots of employees.  
  
A shit ton of gay guys willing to spend their break with him or to drive him home once his shift is over.  
  
In his defense, Louis gets bored easily - like every extremely smart person does - and sex is the best way to keep busy around here. And at home. And in bars. And, occasionally, in the pub's restroom.  
  
So what if he's a slut.  
  
There's no reason to get upset about it. Nick simply pointed out the obvious and Louis is fine with that.

  
  


 

Nick insists on repeating it, too.  
  
Calling Louis a slut like it's his middle name all night long and Louis can't pretend it doesn't annoy him, no matter how many shots he forces down his stomach.  
  
"Louis slut Tomlinson," Nick is saying, with a chip stuck between two fingers. Louis is hoping he chokes on it. "consider yourself lucky, 'cause I already have a plan."  
  
Louis' head is spinning but he still can make sense of what Nick is telling him.  
  
"No schemes." he slurs, wiping his face with a paper towel.  
  
Nick laughs.  
  
"I'm gonna teach you, baby." he promises. "Gonna turn you into a good boy. Just trust me."  
  
Louis is still fighting the urge to throw up when "Trust you?" he blurts out. "I'd rather ask Satan for advice."  
  
And he really means it.  
  
At least Satan would be pretty straightforward about wanting to ruin his existence.  
  
"Let's make a deal." Nick proposes, snatching a small glass out of Louis' hand.  
  
He can't tolerate this shit with no alcohol but he's too drunk to get it back.  
  
"If you manage not to fuck a guy for two whole months-"  
  
Louis scoffs, he bursts out in laughter.  
  
Nick can't be serious.  
  
"If you do that, I'll pay for all your drinks for an entire year."  
  
Louis kinda hopes Nick is serious.  
  
He's willing to become an alcoholic just for the joy of destroying his damn ego.  
  
"Can I fuck other guys on the side?" he wonders, grabbing his head with both hands. He can't see Nick's face this way, but that's always a good thing.  
  
"No."  
  
Well, he's being unreasonable.  
  
Does he really expect him to agree to this?  
  
Louis sighs.  
  
"Let's say I do not fuck the guy," he hears himself say. "for two months" he continues, and why is he even still talking. "I can still blow him and such, right?"  
  
"No, of course not." Nick replies.  
  
This is just impossible, come on.  
  
Nobody would agree to that for such a small prize.  
  
Louis is just gonna get up and leave. He won't even pay for his drinks, just to show Nick he doesn't need to win a stupid bet to empty his wallet.  
  
Just gonna get up and leave.  
  
Right now.  
  
"Can we like, dry hump?"  
  
Does his voice sound this bad all the time?  
  
And is he actually still talking to this idiot?  
  
"Forget it." Nick says, standing up and getting closer to him.  
  
God, Louis hates his cologne.  
  
"What's your policy on handjobs?" He tries then, because he has to allow him at least handjobs.  
  
He will never forgive himself for negotiating this shit.  
  
He needs to puke.  
  
"Well, Mr. L. S. Tomlinson," Nick starts, helping him out of his seat. Louis isn't drunk enough to ignore those wrong initials. "That is strictly forbidden."  
  
Louis is out.  
  
"Nick," he says, holding to his hand like a child. "No. Not doing it. No." he rambles, as Nick gently pushes him towards the restroom.  
  
"Find another victim." he adds, bending over the toilet.  
  
"Oh, and also," Nick replies, holding his head as Louis starts throwing up. "I'm picking the guy."  
  
Louis never asked for a boyfriend, he never needed one.  
  
He just needs an aspirin.

  
  


 

"You need a boyfriend." Nick states, laying his jacket onto his bed.  
  
Louis hates his stupid guts.  
  
"Did you invite me over for dinner to tell me this?" he asks him, leaning against the wall.  
  
He's dead tired and he's so done with this shit.  
  
Nick loves it.  
  
"Let's get out of my room." He suggests, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading him outside. "before you get the wrong idea." he adds, of course.  
  
Louis sighs.  
  
He takes his shoes off just to piss him off and he sinks into the couch. Nick has a horrible personality but at least he's got a nice couch.  
  
"When are you gonna feed me?" Louis complains. "'m starving."  
  
That's when someone knocks on the door and Louis can't even care enough to take his legs off the arm rest.  
  
"Sushi's here!" Nick announces enthusiastically, probably taking wine out of the fridge.  
  
Fucking wine again.  
  
"I hate sushi." Louis reminds him, kicking his ass as soon as Nick walks past him.  
  
He should have gone straight home after work.  
  
Nick opens the door for the delivery guy and Louis' secretly hoping they were out of raw fish and gave them pizza instead.  
  
That could happen.  
  
So he's picturing melted cheese and pepperoni when Nick "Don't be rude!" scolds him. "Come introduce yourself to my other guest."  
  
Louis hates his manipulative guts.

  
  


  


 

Harry Styles is not a delivery boy.  
  
He didn't leave once he dropped the food onto the table, so that already says enough.  
  
Also, Nick thanked him for _making_ sushi and that definitely confirms it: Harry's here to stay.  
  
Louis has been looking at him since he arrived and he came to one conclusion: Nick Grimshaw must really hate him.  
  
He wants to see him suffer and make a fool of himself and drool all over a perfect stranger.  
  
He can't stop staring at him, no matter how many times Harry catches him looking. But then again, he must be used to it, right?  
  
Has he even seen himself?  
  
Louis is almost sure by now: Nick hates him.  
  
Because see, Harry Styles is everything Louis likes in a guy.  
  
He is tall, like very tall, so tall Louis would probably need to stand on his toes to kiss him.  
  
He is definitely in shape, in a kind of shape Louis would love to put his hands on.  
  
He has a beautiful mouth, one you would usually see on a girl's face, but still belongs perfectly right where it is.  
  
When Harry talks he barely opens it, but Louis can still see two perfect lines of white teeth, he can still hear a voice so deep it must be made to talk dirty.  
  
He has unbelievably green eyes, a gaze that reminds him of a feral cat, somehow unimpressed but still sharp, alert, aware.  
  
Probably for the first time in twenty-four years, Louis Tomlinson hasn't said a word in five minutes.  
  
Nick is relaxed, comfortable, as he asks Harry about his day, about his job, about something else Louis isn't interested in, 'cause he's too busy looking.  
  
They finally sit down and the first thing Louis does is empty his glass, because wine isn't his favorite drink, but it still might help him loosen up. He has no other choice.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, sips on it slowly, he licks his lips, he hums.  
  
Louis needs another glass.  
  
"I hope you like sushi." Harry tells him, looking right into his eyes, and if he wasn't smiling Louis would probably think he wants to murder him.  
  
It's that spark in his eyes, like he's trying to read his mind.  
  
Louis smiles back at him.  
  
"I absolutely love sushi."  
  
He ignores Nick's little laugh, he fills up his glass.  
  
He wishes he had a plan.

  
  


 

Harry Styles moves his hands a lot while he's speaking, slowly, almost carefully, like he's drawing his words into the air.  
  
He touches his mouth, pinching on his bottom lip as if looking at it might help Louis listen to anything he's saying.  
  
It doesn't.  
  
It's pretty fucking distracting.  
  
Besides, Harry Styles looks straight into your eyes while he's speaking, which can't keep Louis from picturing him naked, even as he nods.  
  
“Louis can’t even make toast without burning his house down!” Nick interrupts him, making Harry smile.  
  
When Harry smiles two small dimples appear on his face and he looks down for a moment.  
  
When he brings his eyes back on his face, Louis realizes he started bouncing his knee.  
  
That’s it, that’s his moment.  
  
The perfect chance to impress him, make him laugh a little bit, maybe lean forward and touch his arm, who knows.  
  
He’ll figure it out.  
  
Harry’s still looking at him when Louis lets out a little laugh and “Yeah. Yeah, it’s true.” he blurts out.  
  
Well, his moment wasn’t that memorable, after all.  
  
Harry laughs all the same, even though Louis’ not sure that’s a good sign.  
  
“So,” Nick says, standing up. “who wants ice cream?”  
  
This is his moment, then.  
  
The perfect chance to get away from the table and slap Nick right in his stupid face.  
  
“I’ll help you!” Louis offers, following him into the kitchen.  
  
Nick is whistling, the motherfucker, as he takes the ice cream out of the freezer.  
  
He even smiles at him.  
  
“Having fun?” he asks, settling the gayest glasses Louis has ever seen on the counter.  
  
Flowers? Really?  
  
“You are the Devil.” Louis hisses, holding the cold box in his hands as Nick fills up the glasses. “I never agreed to your deal.” He also reminds him, quickly looking over his shoulder to make sure Harry can’t hear them.  
  
Nick feeds him a spoon of strawberry ice cream, probably just to make him shut up, that annoying smile still on his face.  
  
“Isn’t he adorable?” he whispers, as Louis tries to swallow so he can insult him. Nick forces another spoon of ice cream into his mouth. Chocolate this time.  
  
“I’ve known him for such a long time.” he informs him. “Harry’s not the kind of guy who settles for a one-night stand.”  
  
Louis yanks on his arm until the spoon falls onto the floor.  
  
“Listen to me, you little shit.” He snaps, squeezing his wrist. Nick just rolls his eyes.  
  
“I’m not playing this stupid game, so cut the crap.”  
  
Nick shrugs.  
  
“Fine.” He says. “I was just trying to help.”  
  
Louis picks up two glasses, turning his back on him.  
  
_Trying to help_.  
  
Louis is pretty sure that’s what Satan would say on the matter.  
  
But he knows better. He’s heard enough lectures from his grandma to give up his soul that easily.  
  
And Harry Styles isn’t even that attractive, now that he looks at him.  
  
He’s seen better.  
  
Not playing Nick’s game.  
  
No, sir.  
  
“I’m the only one who got vanilla.” Harry realizes, looking into the other glasses.  
  
He isn’t even that interesting, Louis thinks.  
  
“Here, have some.” Harry tells him.  
  
He’s way too clean, too sweet for his liking.  
  
“Open up wide.” Harry instructs, as his spoon gets closer to Louis’ mouth.  
  
Louis does as he says, because fuck his life anyway.  
  
“Delicious.” He garbles, looking anywhere but Harry’s face.  
  
He really had to say that, didn’t he?  
  
_Open up wide_ , he had to say.  
  
Louis is so going to hell.

  
  


 

“Okay, Louis, you don’t need to say it again.”  
  
Oh, he sure does.  
  
“I sure do, you evil fuck!” he yells, buttoning up his jacket. “I am not-“  
  
“Playing my sick game.” Nick cuts him off, walking him to the door.  
  
“A week.” Louis says, turning around again. “No more than one week."  
  
Nick bursts out laughing, but Louis had it coming.  
  
“No way.” He says. “Two months.”  
  
God, Louis hates him so much.  
  
“How about I fuck this one,” he starts, rubbing Nick’s shoulders. “And we bet on the next one.”  
  
Nick scoffs.  
  
“Why do you think I waited this long to let you meet him? He’s the right guy for the job.”  
  
Louis digs his fingers into Nick's shoulders then, he bites the inside of his cheeks.  
  
“Why are you doing this to me?” he hisses, holding onto him despite his efforts to step back.  
  
Nick laughs again.  
  
“Because you need a boyfriend, love.” he simply says, like it was obvious.  
  
Louis never asked for this.  
  
“I only need you to mind your business.” He retorts, finally taking his hands off him and forcing them into his pockets.  
  
This way he might resist the urge to strangle him.  
  
“Wanna know what happens if you lose?” Nick asks, wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
He's the Devil.  
  
Louis needs Jesus.  
  
“I do not.” He spells out, stepping into the hallway. He can still run away from this.  
  
“I’ll tell Harry you’re not interested, then.”  
  
Where is the nearest church?  
  
Louis needs to beg for protection.  
  
He starts going down the stairs, hands still in his pockets to keep them away from Nick’s throat, a song in his head to block Nick’s words out.  
  
But “A tramp stamp!” Nick’s yelling, even if he can’t see him anymore.  
  
“Because every slut needs a tramp stamp!” Nick shouts, as Louis runs out of the building.  
  
Harry Styles is not worth all this trouble.

  
  


 

He was brushing his teeth.  
  
He was brushing his teeth because Chinese take away is only good before he's full and then he hates it and he wants to fast for a week or maybe die, as long as he gets the taste out of his mouth and that bloated stomach away from his body.  
  
That's what he was doing, when someone knocked on his door at seven p.m. on a Tuesday.  
  
He didn't even bother putting his slippers on, he just dragged his bare feet to the door to find out who it could be.  
  
And, of course, it was Harry Styles.  
  
Louis probably still reeks of spring rolls and fried shrimp, that's why the first thing he does is taking a step back.  
  
"Harry Styles?" he blurts out, kind of trying to figure out if he's actually standing there or if he just passed out on the couch. The second option sounds way more plausible.  
  
"Louis Tomlinson." Harry replies, greeting him with a cheerful tone and a childish smile. With those teeth and those dimples. Pretty boy.  
  
"Harry Styles..." Louis repeats, incapable to come up with anything better than that yet.  
  
This must be a weird dream. He needs to stop binging on Chinese food.  
  
That's when Harry lifts up a hand and Louis realizes he's holding a huge paper bag.  
  
"I brought everything we need." he says, as his smile starts slowly fading.  
  
It must be because "Harry Styles?" Louis is asking, still frozen in place.  
  
"Can I come in?" Harry tries, then.  
  
"What, why?" Louis blurts out. "What for?"  
  
Harry's smile is gone for good, replaced by a confused grin.  
  
"Our cooking lesson?" he explains, shrugging.  
  
What.  
  
What kind of messed up dream is this.  
  
"Oh!" Harry suddenly yells, as his face relaxes and Louis tenses up. "Right."  
  
And Louis really wants to be part of that realization because he's so fucking lost.  
  
"I guess Nick wanted it to be a surprise." Harry adds, as that cute smile finds its way back on his face.  
  
Yeah, it looks pretty there.  
  
"I still have no idea what's going on, here." Louis admits, zipping up his hoodie just to keep his hands busy.  
  
Harry shows him the bag again.  
  
"If you just let me in, I'll make it worth your while." he says, voice low and deep and he really had to say it like that, didn't he?

  
  


 

Nick Grimshaw is a dead man.  
  
"Come here, peel the garlic." Harry tells him, as he lays the contents of the bag onto the kitchen table.  
  
Louis doesn't know how to peel garlic and that's another reason for him to kill Nick Grimshaw.  
  
"Come here." Harry repeats, trying to hide his amusement. It clearly shows, though.  
  
"I'll show you." Harry says, holding a huge knife.  
  
This is gonna end badly.  
  
"You slice the tip off." Harry explains, both with his voice and his hands. "And then you press the side of the knife onto the clove. Aaaand-" he sings, slamming the palm of his hand onto the steel.  
  
Louis did not make a startled sound. No way.  
  
"There." Harry says, showing him the result. Louis is still pretty sure he's not awake.  
  
Why the fuck is Harry Styles in his kitchen, hitting innocent garlic cloves with a knife? What is this?!  
  
"You try, now." Harry encourages, placing the knife into his hand.  
  
Louis is still thinking _he touched my hand_ but Harry obviously expects him to do something.  
  
How hard can it be, anyway?  
  
He'll get it over with and then he'll move on to the next thing he needs to do.  
  
Killing Nick Grimshaw.

  
  


 

"So what did you learn so far?" Nick asks, between the noise of cars and footsteps.  
  
"I mean it, Nick. I'm gonna fucking stab you to death." Louis spits out in response.  
  
He hears Nick laughing into his ear and he hates him so much he leans away from the phone until he's sure that idiot is done.  
  
Nothing about this is funny.  
  
"So he taught you how to use a knife, huh?"  
  
"He taught me how to make tomato sauce." Louis retorts, like it's an actual comeback.  
  
Nick seems pretty delighted by that.  
  
"Oh, how nice!" he comments. "And how was it?"  
  
It was good, what the hell. Louis was still begging his stomach to digest all that Chinese junk he had for dinner, but the sauce and the bread somehow still made it into his body.  
  
It shows this morning, his pants are clearly suffering the consequences.  
  
"It was the last tomato sauce I'm ever gonna make, Nick." Louis informs him, slamming the door of his apartment.  
  
He's late to work and he might go to jail if this conversation doesn't end soon.  
  
"But what about the rest of the lessons? It's your birthday present! How rude, Louis." Nick scolds him.  
  
"My birthday was two months ago, you piece of shit." Louis points out, running down the stairs. "And for the record, the last thing I wanna do when I get home from work is playing mommy."  
  
"But I bet you'd love to see Harry again, mh? 'cause you like him so muuu-"  
  
Louis has no time for this shit. He's late to work.  
  
He barely makes it into the train, still wondering how long it's gonna take before Nick realizes he hung up on him.

  
  


 

What really fucks with his head is the fact that Nick Grimshaw didn't just lie and disguise his evil plan as a birthday present.  
  
He didn't simply force Louis into his little psychological torture despite his efforts to keep that from happening.  
  
He didn't even stop after involving another innocent person into his cruel game.  
  
He also _paid_ Harry Styles, a handsome, charming, young chef, so he would teach Louis how to cook.  
  
He told Harry Styles which days Louis works the morning shift and that's why Harry Styles knocks on his door every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday.  
  
The only good thing about it is that at least Louis can get mentally ready for it before Harry gets there.  
  
Well, he still wanted to bury himself on Wednesday, when Harry knocked on his door again and he found Louis still in his wrinkled shirt and pants, probably a little drool on the side of his mouth from the shameless nap he had taken on the couch.  
  
But he finally asked him how it was going to work and now it's Friday evening and he is ready.  
  
He showered, he put on his grey sweatpants because he knows they make his ass pop and his blue T-shirt because that's a great color on him.  
  
He's also wearing a beanie though, because after the fifth attempt to fix his hair he went through a mental breakdown and he couldn't think of any other solution.  
  
But it's okay, it's perfectly fine, Louis has nothing to worry about.  
  
He's cute, he's funny, he's independent, he has his own place, he never asks for anything, he's absolutely adorable and he can even make a decent tomato sauce and an edible roast beef now: he's boyfriend material.  
  
Everything is under control.  
  
He repeats that over and over in his head, while he wipes the counter, and once more while he tries to fix his hair for the last time, and then he repeats it when he ponders smoking a little weed to relax but no, he won't, 'cause everything is under control.  
  
That's what he keeps telling himself, even while plucking his eyebrows because he's just realized how fucked up they got, and he repeats it until it turns into a little made up song.  
  
Everything is under control the moment Harry Styles softly knocks on his door.  
  
Louis opens it slowly, letting him wait just a little bit, before "Harry Styles," greeting him. "Welcome."  
  
Harry's smile hits him like a bitchslap, but Louis still keeps it cool. Maybe he blushes a bit, but he's cool, he's chill.  
  
"Louis Tomlinson." Harry says, and then he fucking _bows_.  
  
God.  
  
"Come in." Louis invites him, quickly turning his back on him to hide his embarrassment.  
  
"What are we making today?" he asks, wiping the counter one more time, you know, for good measure.  
  
He turns around, leaning against the sink, as Harry shows him a little box filled with mushrooms and "Risotto." he states, with a little wink.  
  
God.  
  
"Soooo..." Louis tries, studying his expression. "That means I get to peel garlic, right?"  
  
That has Harry laughing.  
  
"We could use garlic but some people prefer onions to cook mushrooms."  
  
Those must be the same people who know how to peel and cut onions.  
  
Louis only knows how to peel garlic.  
  
So garlic it is.  
  
His face must say it all, because Harry shrugs, still smiling, still showing him his cute little dimples and then he laughs a bit more.  
  
"Yes, Louis, you get to peel the garlic."

  
  


 

Louis might be a slut, but Harry is a huge flirt.  
  
He's still not sure whether he's doing it on purpose or if he just happens to say things in a certain way, a way that makes Louis' blood boil with frustration.  
  
But it keeps happening and that can't be a coincidence.  
  
Harry tells him _nice and slow_ while Louis is stirring his risotto, and _use your fingers_ when he's about to cut some parsley and then, the absolute worst one, the one that has Louis almost screaming, he says _it looks so good, I can't wait to eat it_ in the exact moment Louis bends over to retrieve the towel he dropped, and he's smirking and that was not a fucking coincidence.  
  
Nick knew exactly what he was doing when out of the million guys he knows he decided to pick Harry Styles.  
  
They're eating a mushroom risotto that's at least ten times better than Louis was hoping for, and Harry looks so proud Louis wants to kick him out of his house just to catch his breath.  
  
"Good job." He even says, placing his empty plate into the sink.  
  
Louis almost chokes on his last mouthful of rice but he still manages to blurt out "I bet you say that to all of your students."  
  
At some point when they're together Louis always goes through this terrible moment of self-doubt, he feels clumsy and stupid and also kinda angry, because he's never felt this way before about a guy he liked.  
  
Never ever.  
  
It's all Nick's fault, making such a big deal out of this.  
  
Harry is observing the magnets scattered all over Louis' fridge, he's frowning and wiping his fingers over them like he's never seen one before and he's so weird Louis wants him even more.  
  
"Guess I'll see you on Tuesday, then." he suddenly tells him, finally stepping away from the fridge.  
  
Louis nods, trying to hide his disappointment. Why is he leaving already?  
  
He gives him his jacket, he walks him to the door, "Harry Styles" he tells him, as Harry starts walking down the stairs.  
  
And Harry, that dork, turns around, he tips his non-existent hat and "Louis Tomlinson." he replies, smiling so wide Louis can only slam the door closed.  
  
Why can't he just keep him?

  
  


 

Louis wants to touch him.  
  
He wants to touch his cute little butt every time Harry opens the oven. He wants to touch his hands when Harry reaches out for the fork. He wants to touch his face when Harry smiles, he wants to touch his hair when he brushes it away from his eyes, he wants to touch his arms because they look so nice and big and strong and it's just been a week and he's losing it.  
  
He's fucking losing it.  
  
He doesn't care.  
  
He doesn't care about the vegetarian casserole and he doesn't care about Harry's opinion on Mc Donald's and he cares even less about the way Harry purposefully brushes against his back every single time Louis stands in his way. He does not give a fuck about anything, except for putting both his hands on Harry's Styles chest and feeling and scratching and squeezing and peeking under his shirt and possibly into his briefs to see if he has any reason to act this smug all the time.  
  
He's going out of his mind.  
  
"You're weird today." Harry points out, when Louis takes the fork out of his hand instead of letting him feed him. He's done with this shit.  
  
"Are you okay?" Harry wonders, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Louis wants it somewhere else, way further down.  
  
He chews on the food pretending it's Nick Grimshaw's heart. Tasty.  
  
"I'm fine." he mutters, throwing the fork into the sink.  
  
Harry pouts.  
  
"I'd say you're in a bad mood." he tries, shrugging.  
  
Louis is starting to hate him.  
  
Then Harry smiles again, in a new way, it's a shy little smirk, and Louis does not hate him, not at all.  
  
He likes him so much, what the hell.  
  
Nick Grimshaw knows him too well and it's not fair.  
  
"I'm fine." he repeats, and he hears it too now, how annoyed he sounds.  
  
"I'm fine." he tries again, making an effort to put some sugar into his own voice.  
  
"Wanna say it one more time?" Harry asks him and Louis' nerves finally seem to give up on him.  
  
He lets out a nervous laugh, that keeps coming and going in waves and only gets louder as Harry's expression get more and more confused.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Louis insists, drying to corner of his eyes with the tip of his pinky finger.  
  
"Let's stuff our faces with this damn casserole, yeah?"  
  
Harry shakes his head, he frowns, despite the big smile stretching his pretty lips.  
  
"It's too hot."  
  
Yeah, fuck.  
  
Louis agrees.  
  
"Can't touch it yet." Harry says.  
  
Louis disagrees this time.

  
  


 

On Wednesday Harry teaches him how to make beef stew, and the secret is to _let it be, give it time, be patient_ and, most importantly, _don't mess with it too much because that would only make it worse_.  
  
Why can't Harry just do the same with him?!  
  
On Friday Harry teaches him how to make seafood paella and so far it's the hardest shit Louis has ever come across.  
  
The fish stinks and Harry's so enthusiastic he barely explains what to do, forgetting Louis basically survives on take away and frozen food so, yeah, that turns out to be a disaster.  
  
"I don't like fish that much, anyway." Louis justifies himself, throwing his leftovers into the trash.  
  
Harry furrows his eyebrows.  
  
"How can you not like fish and love sushi at the same time?" he argues, making an effort to eat a bit more of that mess in his plate.  
  
Louis considers not telling him the truth because Harry already looks miserable, pretending the stuff he's forcing down his stomach is actually better than dog food.  
  
Louis bites his lip.  
  
"To be honest," he starts, hesitating as soon as Harry looks at him again. "I don't like sushi that much either."  
  
Harry's perplexed.  
  
"But you ate my sushi." He points out, and why is he even so surprised? Louis would eat actual dog food if that was enough to catch his attention.  
  
"Guess I wanted to impress you." he mutters, biting on his nails. Here it is: the awkward moment of the night.  
  
The smile Harry grants him only makes it worse.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Wow, he really has no idea.  
  
"Kind of." Louis admits, realizing it's too late to take it back now.  
  
"Now go." He adds.  
  
Harry is clearly holding back his laughter.  
  
"Go." Louis commands, pointing to the living room.  
  
And he really wishes he could point to the bedroom but he's stronger than that.  
  
Harry Styles is still not worth all this trouble.  
  
Okay, maybe just a little bit.  
  
But Louis is strong. He can win this.

  
  


 

Nick hasn't stopped laughing in ten minutes.  
  
No matter how many times Louis tells him to stop, he just won't.  
  
"You look so depressed!" he yells, pressing both hands to his own stomach. "I've never seen you so depressed!" he keeps shouting, and laughing and maybe if he keeps going like this he might actually get a heart attack.  
  
Fingers crossed.  
  
"Nick." Louis calls him, gritting his teeth. "When this is over and my hormones go back to normal, I swear to God."  
  
He says nothing else, because he said it all.  
  
Nick slowly starts calming down, he coughs a little.  
  
"You survived these two weeks, you can make it three other times right?"  
  
Louis wants to pull his hair out.  
  
Six more weeks, three more times, a hundred times worse,  
  
Because Harry Styles looks better every time he shows up at his place, his smile is cuter, his smell is sweeter, his body is hotter, his voice is deeper and the looks he gives him are what hell is made of.  
  
"Tell you what." Louis begins, leaning closer to him. "Let's stop at one month."  
  
Nick is already shaking his head but Louis still tries.  
  
He has to at least try.  
  
"And if I make it, you only pay for my drinks for six months. Sounds fair, yeah?"  
  
"No way." Nick mouths, with the most irritating smile Louis has ever seen in his life.  
  
He just. Hates him. So hard.

  
  


 

He starts his third week of torture with a question bouncing back and forth in his head.  
  
It follows him at work, to the supermarket, back to his apartment and finally in his kitchen, where Harry Styles is showing him how to make sure a steak is properly cooked without sticking a fork into it.  
  
Because, as he patiently explains, _if you do that you just let all the delicious juices out_ and that won't work.  
  
Of course not, God forbid.  
  
He wants to get that question out of his head but it just keeps coming back, making him feel so insecure he could cry.  
  
Does Harry even like him?  
  
Sure, they flirt, they smile at each other, they make lame jokes, they even talk about their day and their jobs, but.  
  
Louis' not sure Harry actually likes him.  
  
He's just starting to realize that if Harry was actually interested in him he would at least kiss him, right?  
  
At least.  
  
But no, Harry doesn't kiss him, he doesn't even try.  
  
What if Louis actually manages to control himself for two months and when he's done they don't even have sex?  
  
That's the most terrifying thing he can think of, right now.  
  
"Are you still there?" Harry asks him, waving a hand in front his face.  
  
Louis sighs.  
  
"Sorry, just a bit tired." He lies.  
  
Harry steps closer to him, he puts a hand on his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck.  
  
"You know we don't have to do this, right?" he asks him, and he sounds so affectionate Louis almost leans into him. Almost.  
  
"I mean, if you don't feel like-"  
  
"No, Harry, it's not you." he cuts him off, finding the courage to step away from his touch. "I actually enjoy this." He reassures him.  
  
Harry nods, a little smile appears on his face.  
  
"Me too." He says.  
  
Louis' chest feels heavy all of a sudden, and it's not what relief is supposed to feel like, but it's a nice feeling all the same.  
  
Maybe Harry does like him, a little bit.

  
  


 

Of course Harry likes him, why wouldn't he?  
  
He's been standing in front of the mirror for longer than he'd care to admit, but come on, look at that.  
  
He's hot.  
  
Any top loves a pretty, petite, curvy bottom.  
  
And Louis perfectly fits the description, he might even be overqualified, what the hell.  
  
What that reflection is showing him might have something to do with all the time he spends in the gym and, even though he absolutely hates exercising, look at that now.  
  
Nick would humiliate him even more if he knew Louis got his membership after his second lesson with Harry, so there's a little something he will never tell him.  
  
If he has to wait this long before Harry sees him naked, he might as well make sure he looks damn good when that finally happens.  
  
Of course Harry likes him, no matter how many layers are separating his eyes from his skin.  
  
Louis is hot and it shows.  
  
And, wow, he's in a really good mood.  
  
He should shower himself with compliments more often, he realizes, giving his ass one last glance before putting his clothes on.  
  
He has at least twenty more minutes before Harry gets there and he's definitely going to use that time to jerk off, because who is he kidding, he's still sexually starved and Harry's presence is only going to make it worse.  
  
He is so horny he doesn't even need porn or an elaborate fantasy, all it takes to make him hard and already close to coming is the thought of Harry's hands all over him, of his mouth leaving wet kisses down his neck and sucking bruises into his inner thighs, his voice ringing in his ears, and it's already enough, maybe too much, five minutes later he's about to come.  
  
And then, of course, it happens.  
  
Harry knocks on his door.  
  
Why does his life have to be this hard all the time?  
  
"Coming!" he yells, and, well, he is actually coming.  
  
All over his tummy, and the duvet and, probably, his shirt.  
  
He wastes another minute catching his breath, all of his muscles completely dead, despite the wave of pure panic rushing through his veins.  
  
Harry knocks again and Louis' nervous system finally seems to respond. It all happens at once: rolling off the bed, taking off his shirt, wearing a clean one, fixing his hair, wiping his hands inside his pockets, running to the door, saying his flirty "Harry Styles" as he pulls the door open.  
  
He waits for Harry's response but nothing happens, as his brain suddenly resets because what he's expecting to see does not match what's standing in front of him.  
  
"Liam Payne?" he blurts out.  
  
What the fuck is Liam Payne doing at his house.

  
  


 

"You have to leave!" He tells him, following him into the living room. Nobody told him he could get in.  
  
"You look good." Liam replies, like it has anything to do with Louis trying to kick him out of his house.  
  
Besides, he knows he looks good, now fuck off.  
  
"I'm busy, you need to go." He tries again, yanking on his arm to get him closer to the door.  
  
But Liam is basically as steady as a fucking statue, he won't move an inch.  
  
Then it happens, for real this time.  
  
Harry knocks on his door.  
  
Louis freezes.  
  
He could hide him. Yes, he's going to hide him in his bedroom until Harry is gone.  
  
But then again, why the fuck would he do that.  
  
What does Harry care about Liam being in his house?  
  
Louis needs therapy.  
  
He slaps Liam's arm just to get a tiny sense of revenge, then he takes a deep breath and he goes for the door.  
  
"Harry Styles." He mutters, taking the bag he's holding from his hands.  
  
"Louis Tomlinson." Harry readily replies, with his pretty smile.  
  
But the pretty smile quickly disappears as soon as Louis lets him inside, replaced by a puzzled frown.  
  
"Hi, I'm Harry." He introduces himself, offering his hand to Liam. "And you are?"  
  
Maybe if Louis gets really close to the wall and he stops moving altogether, they will forget he's there.  
  
"Liam Payne."  
  
Maybe they won't notice him.  
  
"So I guess it didn't take you that long to move on, huh?"  
  
Can Liam still see him?  
  
Harry can, judging by the way he's staring right at him.  
  
Abort mission.  
  
Louis pushes himself off the wall, he grabs Liam's arm once again.  
  
"Just go." he presses, carefully avoiding Harry's gaze.  
  
"I need to talk to you, Lou."  
  
"Yeah, but I don't wanna hear it, Liam." Louis quickly retorts, trying to push his back this time, maybe eventually he'll manage to make him leave.  
  
"Maybe I should go." Harry mutters, and he's already opening the door when Louis "No!" shouts.  
  
Liam laughs.  
  
"Okay, I get it." he says, raising his hands. "I'll leave"  
  
Fucking finally.  
  
Louis tries to ignore how mortified he feels, as he steps in Harry's way to open the door, waiting for Liam to go outside.  
  
Liam chuckles, he nods.  
  
"Guess it's true, what they say about you." He tells him, right before Louis slams the door closed.

  
  


 

It's awkward, that's what it is.  
  
Louis needs to learn to check who it is, before opening the damn door.  
  
All of this wouldn't have happened and maybe Harry wouldn't look so uncomfortable right now, furiously cutting jalapeños like they killed his mother.  
  
"I'm sorry." Louis manages to blurt out after a while.  
  
He can only hear the sound of the knife against the chopping board at first, then Harry's sigh and, finally, his voice.  
  
"Ex boyfriend?" he asks, still looking down.  
  
Louis bites his bottom lip, he considers lying, for some reason.  
  
But he doesn't.  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Harry nods, he frowns.  
  
"Did you break up with him?"  
  
He did lie about this, in the past.  
  
But he won't now.  
  
"Yeah, I did. He didn't take it too well." He admits, as Harry nods again.  
  
"I didn't want to intrude," he says, dragging his eyes up on Louis' face.  
  
Fuck, they're so pretty.  
  
Even if he looks mad.  
  
"But I must say, I considered punching his face for a moment there." Harry adds.  
  
Louis' mouth goes dry.  
  
"Why?" he croaks out, stepping closer to him.  
  
Harry stabs the chopping board, leaving his knife stuck inside of it, he stares at him for so long Louis probably stops breathing.  
  
Louis reluctantly moves aside, letting Harry wash his hands in the sink.  
  
Then he's not breathing again, because now Harry is standing in front of him, and they're so close.  
  
"I didn't appreciate his tone." Harry explains, furrowing his eyebrows. He looks so hot right now. "And he was too insistent." he adds.  
  
Louis chuckles, and it's probably just his nerves.  
  
"He's harmless." he reassures him, fighting the urge to brush his fingers against Harry's arm. They've never been this close.  
  
"But thank you." He says, looking up at his face.  
  
Jesus Christ, he looks so good.  
  
He smells so nice.  
  
And he is so tall, Louis would definitely need to stand on his tiptoes to kiss him.  
  
But it doesn't matter, because Harry presses his lips together, then he steps back.  
  
"Back to our jalapeño poppers." He instructs, retrieving the knife.  
  
Louis wants to scream.  
  
"Okay." He whispers.

  
  


 

Harry does it again.  
  
Is he ever going to understand that it drives Louis crazy when he feeds him what they cooked with his fucking hands?  
  
Louis almost chokes on his jalapeño popper, and not just because it's damn spicy and burning hot.  
  
So now he has a mouth filled with saliva, cheese splattered all over his chin and a raging boner into his pants.  
  
"It's so good." He mutters, as Harry wipes his chin with a finger. "So hot." Louis adds, as Harry quickly sucks on that same finger.  
  
"Too hot for you?" he even asks.  
  
Louis still wants to scream.  
  
He shakes his head though, 'cause they're talking about spicy food, right?  
  
Harry's smirk does not think so.  
  
Louis goes for another one, who cares, he can afford to eat fried food because now he goes to the gym.  
  
He ends up eating most of them, but that seems to make Harry happy.  
  
"So I guess we should make more spicy dishes?" he proposes, with a huge smile on his face.  
  
Louis is still chewing when "Nope," he corrects "but let's make more fatty dishes."  
  
Harry laughs, he leaves the last jalapeño popper on the plate so Louis can eat it.  
  
Why is he so cute all the time?  
  
And so hot, so fucking hot.  
  
Louis wants to see him naked, he wants to get naked for him and just stare at him while Harry does the same, getting a good look before he gets his hands on him.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Harry asks him all of a sudden, making him drop his glass onto the floor.  
  
Louis curses, he jumps up from his chair.  
  
"Don't worry about it, I'll clean it up!" he almost shouts, quickly picking up the shards and throwing them into the trash.  
  
"Louis, wait-"  
  
"No, Harry, I mean it." Louis interrupts him. "Stay where you are."  
  
Harry has already washed the dishes more than once in his house, he can't let him clean up this mess as well.  
  
That's not what a good boyfriend would do, is it?  
  
Not that Louis wants a boyfriend.  
  
"Louis, stop." Harry insists, getting up from his chair.  
  
Louis ignores him, because he's almost done anyway, but he can do nothing but helplessly stare when Harry crouches down, grabbing his wrist so tight Louis almost lets out a little moan.  
  
"Louis." Harry whispers, looking at him with his big, bright eyes.  
  
"Yeah?" Louis manages to reply.  
  
Harry lifts up his arm before his eyes and "look" he says, but Louis has no intention to stop looking at Harry's face, because oh my god, maybe something's actually about to happen, he can fucking feel it.  
  
But Harry does not lean closer like Louis wants him to, he just keeps holding his wrist, then his other hand closes around Louis' hand, then "you're bleeding" he says.  
  
And, oh, look, he's right, Louis' bleeding, there's blood dripping down his arm and into Harry's hand and onto the floor.  
  
And, wow, that's absolutely disgusting.  
  
And yes, of course, Louis passes out.

  
  


 

Harry's hands are warm, they feel nice against his face.  
  
Louis always wants them there.  
  
Well, not _always_ , there's lots of places on and inside of him that he wants Harry to touch, but yeah, they feel nice right where they are now.  
  
"Hey." Harry whispers, brushing Louis' hair out of his face.  
  
Yeah, that feels even nicer.  
  
Louis smiles.  
  
Harry laughs, he touches his forehead again and Louis just loves it.  
  
"You look high." Harry comments, playful smile lingering on his lips.  
  
Louis chuckles but he says nothing, because whatever this is, he's into it and he doesn't want it to stop.  
  
He breathes in and out, slowly, as his body starts sending him signals again, and among them one in particular is not exactly pleasant.  
  
"Hurts." He croaks out, blinking up at him.  
  
Harry becomes serious, he nods.  
  
"I know." He only says, and then he grabs Louis' hand, the one that throbs and stings, and he leaves a small kiss on it.  
  
Whatever this is, Louis never wants it to end.  
  
"You fainted." Harry tells him, and yes, it's all coming back to him now. The glass, the cut, the blood and that's just great, he's getting dizzy again.  
  
"I hate blood." Louis explains, forcing himself to ignore how nauseated he's getting.  
  
Harry chuckles, his hand starts moving down Louis' face, settling against his cheek.  
  
"You're fine." Harry reassures him. "It's not a deep cut."  
  
Louis hums, he looks around a bit, only now realizing they are in his room.  
  
"You brought me to bed?" he asks, suddenly feeling embarassed at the thought of Harry carrying him around in his arms. Jesus. If Nick knew about this, Louis would have to kill him.  
  
"It's better if you lie down a bit." Harry murmurs, now moving his hand down Louis' neck, on his shoulder, on his chest, fuck, fuck, fuck.  
  
"Your heart's beating so fast" Harry notices, frowning. "Calm down." he adds, voice deep and sweet.  
  
Louis takes a shaky breath.  
  
What if he just tells him.  
  
What's the worst that could happen.  
  
"Harry," he says, stopping as soon as Harry runs both hands through his hair and "Hush." he orders. "Just breathe."  
  
Worst case scenario, Harry tells him it's not mutual and Louis stops obsessing over him.  
  
Only thinking about it makes him cringe.  
  
"Harry, I-" he tries again, but no, Harry won't let him do it, in fact "Don't speak." he whispers, still running his fingers through his hair.  
  
But it'll be worth it, right?  
  
If he does tell him and Harry does like him, he'll get to feel his fingers through his hair any time he wants and, consequently, all these nice little shivers all over him.  
  
Any time he wants.  
  
And kisses, too. He'll get to kiss his pretty, plump, pink lips anytime he likes, maybe even bite and suck on them a little.  
  
And, once this nightmare is over, he'll get to feel a lot more, from Harry.  
  
That is definitely worth a shot.  
  
"Do you want some water?" Harry asks him, still keeping his voice low.  
  
Fuck it.  
  
Louis breathes in, he reaches out to grab Harry's arm before he can stand up. "No, listen." he tells him.  
  
Harry looks at him, with those beautiful green eyes of his, and Louis is just going to do it.  
  
"I have like-" he says, stopping to let out a tiny nervous laugh.  
  
"You have what?" Harry asks, leaning closer.  
  
Louis takes another breath, he presses his fingers into Harry's arm.  
  
"I have this huge crush on you." he laughs, shaking his head. "Really, it's ridiculous." he adds, laughing harder at himself.  
  
He sounds like a damn teenager.  
  
Harry just blinks at him at first, he looks down for a moment.  
  
When he looks back at him his face got so serious Louis wants to hide.  
  
"So what, you fantasize about seeing me and kissing me and such?" Harry wonders, pulling his arm out of his grip.  
  
Louis' heart skips a beat.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He feels his cheeks stinging with shame so all he can do is turning his head to the wall, trying to figure out if there's a way to make Harry believe it was all just a bad joke and forget about it forever.  
  
"Do you make yourself pretty before I come over?" Harry insists, despite Louis' mortified expression. "Do you think about me all the time?"  
  
Okay, enough.  
  
Louis brings his eyes back on Harry's stupid face, and he's just about to yell at him, or insult him or maybe slap him, except.  
  
Is this what a heart attack feels like?  
  
Louis is going to fucking kill him for this shit, but not now, because, okay, Harry's kissing him.  
  
Oh God.  
  
_Harry's kissing him_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii!  
> First of all, I wanna thank everyone who left a kudo, a comment and subscribed to the story.  
> It feels great and it really makes me want to write more, makes me want to be better.  
> Thank you <3  
> Okay, I'll shut up.  
> Go, read, have fun.
> 
> Oh, by the way, this is still for Jamie.  
> Hi Jamieeee <3 <3 <3

Nick looks taken aback.  
  
He drops his phone on the table, he crosses his arms.  
  
"I never said you could kiss." He points out, frowning.  
  
Louis shrugs, he giggles.  
  
"You never said we couldn't." he shoots back, arching his eyebrows.  
  
Yeah, this feels fucking good.  
  
"In your gay face, Grimshaw." he adds, happily sipping on his beer.  
  
And sure, it's nice, seeing Nick's defeated expression, but Louis already feels on edge and he's back to fantasizing about kissing Harry again, having him all over _his_ gay face, just like last night.  
  
He sighs.  
  
"Okay, what is that?" Nick asks, leaning forward. "That pretty sound you just made?"  
  
Louis swallows dry, then he swallows more beer.  
  
"Oh my God." Nick blurts out, tapping both hands on the table, making the most useless drum roll in history.  
  
"You fucking love him!" Nick yells, earning a kick under the table. He doesn't seem to notice it. Louis should have worn combat boots.  
  
"I do not _love_ him, Nick." he clarifies, rolling his eyes. "I just like him." he says, looking around. Harry doesn't usually hang here, right? "I like him a whole fucking lot, okay?" he mumbles, chugging down what's left of his beer.  
  
Nick nods, he smiles like the idiot he is and "I knew it." he says. "This time you're fucked."  
  
Louis wishes he was _getting_ fucked.  
  
"Shut up." he spits out, fidgeting with his T-shirt.  
  
Of course Nick doesn't shut up, he never shuts up.  
  
"You're going to fall in loooove." he says, blinking his eyes a thousand times. "And you're going to meet his mommy and introduce him to yours." he adds, clapping.  
  
Louis kinda feels like Nick might be fucking with him.  
  
Just a thought.  
  
Well, he did mention Harry two or three or twenty times while on the phone with his mother in the past few weeks, and that's yet another thing Nick will never know.  
  
"Then you're going to move in together into a little pink house in the countryside," Nick explains. "you're going to adopt a dog, a cat and a few chickens."  
  
"Chickens?!" Louis shouts, throwing his hands in the air. "Why would we adopt chickens?!" and as he says it, he realizes maybe he should have argued about that little pink house Nick mentioned. Oh well.  
  
Nick shrugs.  
  
"I don't know." He says. "So you can kill them off and turn them into a potpie, I suppose."  
  
Louis hits Nick's hand with his empty beer bottle then, because he's had more than enough fun.  
  
But "And finally," Nick insists, rubbing his hand where it hurts. "You will get married and you will probably buy a tiny restaurant in Hawaii."  
  
"Will that be pink too?" Louis yawns, retrieving his jacket from the floor and wearing it.  
  
"Harry will do the cooking and you will serve tables in a slutty bikini."  
  
Why the hell would Louis wear a bikini.  
  
"Of course." he replies, getting up and leaving some cash on the table.  
  
It doesn't cover for what he had, but fuck Nick anyway.  
  
"Night." he tells him, pressing an angry kiss to his cheek. "I'll see you next weekend."  
  
Nick slaps his ass, he fixes his jacket, he smiles at him.  
  
"I know Hawaii sounds nice," he says. "But you might want to reconsider."  
  
"Why, 'cause you'd miss me too much?" Louis grunts, shoving his hands away from him.  
  
Nick is still looking up at him, he's shaking his head.  
  
"I'd miss you, yeah." he admits, smiling. "But that's not what I meant."  
  
Louis doesn't want to know what he means.  
  
"Bye, Nick." he quickly says, then he turns around and he basically runs out of the pub.  
  
Nick texts him twenty seconds later.  
  
He should just throw his phone in a trash can, at this point, but he's too curious to make good choices for himself.  
  
"In Hawaii, if you wear your bikini, everyone is going to see your tramp stamp ;)"  
  
Louis laughs.  
  
Nick is so sure he's going to win, huh?  
  
He forgets how much Louis loves proving him wrong.  
  
Louis replies with a bunch of cocktail emojis and he goes home.

  
  


 

Harry's waiting for him in front of his apartment, bag in his hands and smile on his face.  
  
Louis apologizes for being late, but he's not even listening to himself, because Jesus Christ, he always forgets how good Harry looks when they're apart.  
  
Then he sees him again and _Jesus Christ_.  
  
Should he kiss him?  
  
Should he just open the door?  
  
He opens the door, as Harry waits behind him.  
  
"Can you wait five minutes?" Louis asks him, switching the light on. "I need a quick shower."  
  
"Of course, take your time." Harry replies, disappearing into the kitchen.  
  
Louis likes having him in his apartment. He loves the fact Harry stopped asking for permission to move around, to open the fridge or turn the TV on as they're cooking.  
  
His shower is so quick he almost slips while getting out, but he can't help it, he wants to be with Harry as soon as possible, no matter how pathetic it sounds.  
  
For a moment he considers making his appearance just as he is now, butt naked and still kinda wet, just to see how Harry would react.  
  
Maybe he'd get embarrassed and wait for Louis to make a move, but in Louis' head Harry would bend him over the table and fuck him like an animal.  
  
Yeah, that would be super nice.  
  
But he hasn't had sex in three weeks and if Harry did that Louis would probably die from blood loss. Well, if he could pick a way to die, impaled by Harry's cock would definitely be it, but Nick would have a tramp stamp tattooed on his corpse then, and that's not pretty.  
  
He reluctantly puts his clothes on and he goes into the kitchen, where Harry's already chopping what looks like parsley.  
  
He stops for a moment, then he smiles at him.  
  
"You should probably avoid touching sharp objects for a while." he comments, with a cute little frown.  
  
Louis shrugs, showing him his hand, wrapped in a clean bandage.  
  
"I can use the other one!" he suggests, and of course he's immediately picturing himself as he wraps his fingers around Harry's cock.  
  
Sue him.  
  
"What are we making today?" he asks, stepping closer to peek inside the bag.  
  
"Meatballs." Harry replies, and he said _meat_ and _balls_ and Louis is going there again.  
  
This is torture.

  
  


 

Harry's torturing him.  
  
Louis was doing good, kind of, he still had it under control.  
  
Kind of.  
  
Until Harry insisted to peek under the bandage to see if his hand was healing, and then he pressed a hand on his back as Louis mixed the ingredients inside of the bowl, and then he brushed his fringe out of his eyes and now he's guiding him as Louis tries to flip the meatballs without breaking them, holding to his wrist and telling him what to do and all Louis can think of is tearing his own clothes off.  
  
By the time they are done Louis is sweating.  
  
"Now we wait a bit." Harry says, finally giving him some space. "They're too hot." he adds, resting the plate on the table.  
  
Louis just looks at him, because he's pretty sure his voice would come out all broken and shaky if he tried to say anything.  
  
"So now we can focus on the second part." Harry says, as Louis follows him into the living room.  
  
"What's that?" he asks, and yes, broken and shaky it is.  
  
Harry smirks, patting on the couch cushion next to him.  
  
"The part where I kiss you." he says.  
  
Oh, Louis likes that part.  
  
That's the best part.

  
  


 

On Friday they kiss for hours, until their meatballs get cold and dry and they don't even eat them when they finally manage to get away from each other.  
  
On Tuesday they start kissing as soon as Harry gets there, because Louis can't help it, he basically attacks him the moment he sees him and it feels like Harry was just waiting for him to give him a starting point.  
  
On Wednesday Louis asks him "What are we making today?" and Harry simply says "Out."  
  
So they make out.  
  
They don't even cook.

  
  


 

God.  
  
Harry's such a good kisser.  
  
They've done this before, and Louis is supposed to get used to it at some point, right?  
  
But on Friday Harry pulls him closer before Louis can blink and the moment he opens his mouth to let Harry slip his tongue inside, his brain just goes into mush.  
  
His hands fly up to his chest, he fucking moans, as Harry deepens the kiss. Louis sucks on his tongue, he bites on his lips, he pulls him closer until Harry positively throws him on the couch, pressing him against the armrest, holding his hips with both hands.  
  
Calling it kissing would be a blatant lie.  
  
They're basically fucking with their clothes on, grinding against each other, touching and scratching and squeezing and Louis is gonna lose, he's gonna lose the bet.  
  
He can't.  
  
He just can't.  
  
He pulls on Harry's hair to make him stop but that only makes it worse, Harry presses his body even harder against him and fuck, fuck, this is so hot, it's so good, Louis wants it so bad.  
  
"Fuck me." he says, pushing Harry off just so he can climb on top of him. "Want you to fuck me." he tells him, looking at him, at his glossy eyes, his messy hair, his swollen lips. He's a sight.  
  
Louis wants him.  
  
Enough.  
  
It's happening. Now.  
  
"You sure?" Harry blurts out, and even if he's obviously saying that just to be nice, Louis melts.  
  
"I want you so much." he whispers, brushing a finger on his lips. "I've been thinking about it since I first saw you." he confesses, starting to realize he hasn't stopped rocking his hips for a second.  
  
And Harry wants him too, if his hard cock pressed against his ass is any indication.  
  
Harry pushes his hips up, he moans, and Louis needs to have him now.  
  
"Feels big." he says, staring into his eyes. "Wanna see it, wanna touch it." he rambles, grinding harder against him. "Wanna put it in my mouth." he continues, sneaking his hands under Harry's shirt. "Wanna ride it."  
  
Harry throws his head back, hands still grabbing Louis' hips, trying to keep him still and failing.  
  
"There's something I need to tell you." he pants, dragging one hand up Louis' back.  
  
No, he needs to shut up now. Louis can't risk changing his mind.  
  
So he climbs off his lap, as hard as it is, and he yanks on his wrist until Harry gets up, stumbling the whole way to his bedroom.  
  
Louis could fucking die, seeing the way Harry's face changes as soon as he slips out of his jeans and again as he takes off his T-shirt, and even more as soon as he climbs on the bed.  
  
"Louis..." he only says, his voice so raspy Louis' cock twitches in his briefs.  
  
Then he finally steps closer, he wraps a hand around the back of Louis' neck, looking down at him with hungry eyes.  
  
That's it.  
  
His face says it all: Louis has him wrapped around his finger now.  
  
He's in his zone, in his horny, dirty, nasty kingdom, where he gets to make the rules.  
  
"Take your clothes off." he murmurs, looking up at him, blinking, licking his lips.  
  
Harry's face says it all.  
  
So Louis pushes a bit harder, because Harry just needs a little more, he can feel it.  
  
He lifts his shirt up to uncover his stomach, he presses a dry kiss above his navel, then a wet one right under it.  
  
And finally, he lays a hand on his erection, squeezing lightly, eyes still fixed on Harry's face.  
  
It's all it takes, really, to end up smushed against the mattress, Harry's body weighting on him in the most delightful way.  
  
Because he's heavy and huge and greedy and Louis can barely breath or move or talk, but he fucking loves it.  
  
He makes the rules in the bedroom, no matter how big and strong Harry is, this is his zone, this is what Louis is best at.  
  
So he spreads his legs, he bites on Harry's sharp jaw, he grabs his face with both hands and "Want you inside" he tells him "Wanna feel you for days." he says, making their mouth collide, their bodies clash harder.  
  
And Harry's right there, right where he wants him, completely lost, dizzy with how horny he made him, fucking stuttering.  
  
"Louis, I-I need..." he blurts out, but Louis shushes him again, because he knows exactly what he needs and he knows how to give it to him.  
  
So he sneaks a hand between their bodies, he unbuttons Harry's pants, he palms at his erection through his briefs.  
  
God, he's so hard, so hot, so big, Louis might come as soon as he sees his cock.  
  
But then Harry's fingers squeeze tight around his wrist, until Louis withdraws his hand.  
  
"Wait." Harry tells him, starting to pull back.  
  
No, no, no, they're so close, he can't mess it up now.  
  
"Don't tell me you don't want this." Louis replies, closing his thighs around him, holding him in place. "Because your cock begs to differ." he laughs, struggling to bring him closer.  
  
Harry laughs too, he shakes his head.  
  
"No, of course I do." He mutters between sharp breaths. "But I need you to know the truth."  
  
Okay. What the fuck is going on.  
  
Why aren't they naked, why isn't Harry's cock in Louis' mouth yet and what the fuck is Harry talking about?  
  
Louis frowns, he pushes him off out of frustration.  
  
Harry gets up from the bed, all messed up and beautiful, pants undone, hair disheveled, muscles twitching and Louis wants to punch him at this point.  
  
"What is it?" he spits out, crossing his arms on his bare chest.  
  
Harry rubs a hand on his face, he sighs.  
  
"Okay," he starts, taking another step back. "It's gonna sound bad, but-"  
  
"What is it, Harry." Louis hisses, getting up as well.  
  
Harry keeps stepping back, like he's _scared_ , and Louis is so confused, so horny, so angry, what the fuck is going on.  
  
"Okay," Harry repeats, lifting his hands in surrender. "Here it is."  
  
Louis arches an eyebrow, he bites the inside of his cheeks as Harry takes another deep breath.  
  
"Nick and I kind of..."  
  
Louis' eyes go wide with horror at that point.  
  
"Don't tell me you're fucking Nick." He begs him, clenching his fists.  
  
"No, no! I'm not!" Harry shouts. "It's not that."  
  
Fuck. He scared him for a second.  
  
"No, we just..." Harry tries again, looking down. "We made a..."  
  
Louis scoffs.  
  
"A what Harry?!"  
  
Because this is not what he had in mind when he pictured himself in his bedroom with Harry Styles, it's not even close to what he had in mind and just a minute ago they were in his fucking kingdom and now what the hell is this.  
  
"A bet." Harry finally says, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Louis."  
  
What the hell is this.  
  
Louis makes the sign of the cross then, because what else can he do, and "He's the Devil," he says.  
  
Nick Grimshaw is the Devil.

  
  


 

"So let me get this straight." Louis says, once he's back into his clothes again and into his living room again and miles away from fucking Harry again.  
  
"Nick bet you that you couldn't get in my pants." he continues, as Harry nods, obviously ashamed while doing so. And he fucking should be. "And you accepted." he adds, pointing a finger at him. "And that's why you're so nice to me all the time-"  
  
"No, Louis, it's not like that." Harry interrupts him, laying his hands on his shoulders. "I promise."  
  
Louis scoffs.  
  
"Yeah, right." he spits out, rolling his eyes. Harry looks pretty even when he's mortified.  
  
"Louis." Harry says, resting his hands on his face this time. "I don't care about that stupid bet, I never did." he states, staring into his eyes.  
  
Louis almost believes him.  
  
"Why did you accept, then?" he argues.  
  
Harry bites on his bottom lip.  
  
"Because I thought he was right."  
  
Louis tilts his head to the side, he frowns at him.  
  
"About what." he mutters, slapping Harry's hands away. He can't give in and kiss him now.  
  
Harry sighs, he nervously scratches his own face.  
  
"About me." he says.  
  
"What about you." Louis presses, shifting on his feet. Harry looks pretty even when he's painfully uncomfortable.  
  
"I never-" he blurts out. "I've only had sex with two people."  
  
Okay, wait a second, wait.  
  
What.  
  
"What?!" Louis gasps.  
  
That can't be. That is fucking _offensive_.  
  
"What?!" he repeats, with a hand pressed to his own chest. "Shut up."  
  
"It's true."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Harry frowns.  
  
"But it's true."  
  
Shut the fuck up.  
  
"What." Louis says. "Shut. Up."

  
  


 

"You are fucking disgusting." Louis barks into the phone. "You hear me? You are the biggest piece of shit on the planet."  
  
Nick laughs.  
  
Louis hates him.  
  
"You are disgusting." He repeats, walking back and forth across the hotel lobby. "You are the Devil." he says, and that lady shouldn't be eavesdropping. "You are the Devil, Nick, the Devil."  
  
"So he told you?" Nick laughs.  
  
"You are so disgusting, you gross me out." Louis replies, glaring at the old lady in the pink hat from the 19th century. "You need an exorcist." he concludes, hanging up.

  
  


 

"For the record," Louis says "I'm not gonna let you win this."  
  
Harry laughs, eyes sparkling.  
  
He dips a finger in the batter, he sucks on it.  
  
Maybe Harry's the Devil, after all.  
  
Louis might have been wrong all along.  
  
"So you think I'm gonna let you win?" he says. "Are you sure?"  
  
No, he's not, of course he's not, look at him, just _look_ at him. He still wants him like crazy. Fuck, he wants him even more now.  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure." he lies, adding flour to the mixture. "You'll see." he says, shrugging.  
  
Harry's onto him.

  
  


 

On Tuesday they make French toast and Harry feeds it to him, and having his fingers inside his mouth is not the ideal situation for Louis. Quickly sucking on them doesn't make him look good, for sure.  
  
On Wednesday they make cupcakes, and smearing icing on Harry's face was not a good idea. It makes him think of things, bad things, hot, dirty, sexy things, and he shouldn't have done that.  
  
He licks it off his lips and nose and chin though, because how could he not.  
  
On Friday they make stuffed mushrooms, yes, stuffed mushrooms.  
  
Louis loves that word.  
  
_Stuffed_.  
  
Harry keeps repeating it.  
  
"Stuffed mushrooms are my favorite side dish." he says. "You stuffed them properly." he says. "Nice and full." he says. "Go on, stuff them into the oven now." he says.  
  
Louis is not caving in.  
  
"I made it this far," He informs him, when the timer goes off. "I'm not gonna let you win."  
  
Three weeks to go.  
  
"Our stuffed mushrooms are done." Harry simply replies.  
  
Three weeks to go. Just three weeks.

  
  


 

"Have you fucked him yet?" Nick asks, with that proud smirk of his. He thinks he knows him, doesn't he. "Don't lie. Liars go to hell."  
  
Louis needs a good lawyer, one of those who don't care how sick your crime was.  
  
"I haven't." he says, throwing peanuts into Nick's hair. "And I won't." he declares, aiming for his mouth this time. Maybe it'll get stuck in his wind pipe.  
  
"I got you a present." Nick informs him, suddenly placing a box on the table.  
  
Louis lets out a bitter laugh.  
  
"You know where you can stick it, right?"  
  
Nick smiles, he pushes the box closer to him.  
  
"No, love." he says. "You're supposed to stick it up _your_ arse."  
  
And now Louis' pretty sure there's a dildo in there.  
  
He shakes the box, he lifts it up, he puts it back down.  
  
Yup. There is a dildo in there, no doubts about it.  
  
"Fuck you." Louis spits out. "Bye." he adds, standing up and leaving.  
  
With the box.  
  
He's most definitely gonna stick it up his arse.

  
  


 

Tuesday evening, "What are we making today?" Louis asks, "Stuffed peppers." Harry replies.  
  
Wednesday evening, "What are we making today?" Louis mutters, "Stuffed zucchini." Harry replies.  
  
Friday evening, "What are we making today, you son of a bitch." Louis hisses, "Pancakes." Harry laughs. "Just pancakes."  
  
Louis sighs. Thank God.

  
  


 

"So about that thing you told me," Louis starts, while Harry washes the dishes. "You know, that thing about your sex life." he continues, feeling relieved when Harry chuckles.  
  
Good, they can talk about it, then.  
  
Louis needs to talk about it.  
  
Harry dries his hands, he smiles at him.  
  
"What do you want to know?" he asks, sitting down beside him.  
  
Louis shrugs.  
  
"Well," he says, leaving a small kiss on Harry's lips. And another one, and another one. "Why." he finally adds.  
  
Harry's laugh quickly follows, and then Louis' irritation joins in as well.  
  
"I mean, why." he insists, because how else can he say it? Why, he just wants to know why, for fuck's sake.  
  
Harry is still laughing though, it takes him a while to stop.  
  
"I've been with the same guy for years." he explains "On and off."  
  
Louis presses his lips together, asking himself if it's actually what he thinks it is, that feeling inside of his chest.  
  
"How many years?" he asks, shifting on his chair.  
  
"Four." Harry replies, and yes, it is what he thinks it is.  
  
Jealousy.  
  
That's new.  
  
That's horrible, it's a disaster.  
  
"Wow." he comments. "That's a long time."  
  
Harry furrows his eyebrows then, his dimples start showing.  
  
"Congrats." Louis spits out, and maybe if he didn't say that, Harry wouldn't look so damn smug now.  
  
"Are you-"  
  
"No, I'm not." Louis cuts him off, slapping his hand away. "I don't care."  
  
"Yes, you do." Harry provokes him. "Look at you, you're livid!"  
  
"Get out." Louis orders, jumping up from his chair. "Go home."  
  
Harry looks shocked, but that's not Louis' problem, is it.  
  
"Go." he repeats, handing him his jacket. "I'll see you on Friday."  
  
Harry confusedly follows him to the door, he's about to leave, he's almost gone.  
  
"Don't get mad." He says, wrapping an arm around Louis' hips. "I moved on."  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, he lets Harry kiss him for a minute.  
  
"I'm not mad." he reassures him, nibbling on his jaw. Harry pulls him closer, he lays a hand on his lower back.  
  
"I'm just horny." Louis murmurs, gently pushing him away. Harry's smile is painfully beautiful.  
  
"Get the fuck out." Louis snaps, pushing him harder. "Out."

  
  


 

On Tuesday Harry takes it to another level.  
  
Louis underestimated him.  
  
Big mistake.  
  
"You are so sexy." Harry tells him out of nowhere, as Louis clumsily peels a potato.  
  
Louis chokes on his own spit, he drops the potato onto the floor, he chases it for a good ten seconds.  
  
When he starts peeling it again his hands are shaking.  
  
"Stop it." he grunts, carefully avoiding his eyes.  
  
"The way you move." Harry ignores him. "The way you wiggle your butt when you're whisking."  
  
Louis' gonna cut himself again if Harry doesn't shut up, and maybe he should, passing out sounds like a good plan.  
  
He starts dicing the potatoes. Harry keeps talking.  
  
"The way you play with your hair, that little diva act you put on when I look at you."  
  
Louis glares at him, long enough to consider kissing him, then he tears his eyes away from him again.  
  
Shit.  
  
"You know what I'm talking about." Harry presses, reaching out into the bowl to inspect his work. Louis slams the knife handle on the back of his hand. "Zip it."  
  
Harry keeps going.  
  
"You look up, you fidget with your shirt, you sigh." He illustrates, as his voice gets deeper. "You do all it takes to keep my eyes on you."  
  
"And it works, doesn't it?" Louis snaps, dropping the knife in the sink. "You stare at me like an idiot all the time, so I reckon it works."  
  
"It sure does." Harry casually replies. "Makes me so hard."  
  
Louis swallows dry.  
  
"What do I do now?" he asks, shoving the bowl in Harry's hands.  
  
"You season them," Harry explains, attempting to hide his laughter. "and you pop them into the oven."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
"That's all." Harry confirms, smiling at him.  
  
"Good." Louis declares. "You can leave, then."

  
  


 

"I don't even have your phone number." Harry points out on Wednesday, as Louis does his best to understand how to grill a piece of salmon without magically turning it into trash.  
  
"I know." he just says, moving Harry's arm out of the way to watch him work. "Won't give it to you till this is over." he adds, growing confident with his cooking skills.  
  
That looked easy, he can do it.  
  
Harry hands him a piece of raw fish, he gestures for him to get closer to the stove.  
  
"Okay, but why?" he questions, nodding approvingly as Louis gently puts it in the pan. "Where's the logic in having sex before we exchange numbers?"  
  
Louis has no time for logic now, his salmon is already burning.  
  
"I got it." he argues, pushing Harry out of his way.  
  
It smells nice, it looks decent, it might actually be edible this time around. Besides, it's the only fish he can stand, he can't let it go to waste.  
  
"Aren't you going to answer?" Harry presses, showing Louis how to arrange the lettuce on his plate before he lays the salmon on it.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes.  
  
"Because I'd probably end up sending you nudes, Harry." he grumbles. "Now shut up and eat."

  
  


 

"I should go." Harry whispers between kisses, pulling Louis closer all the same. "It's getting late."  
  
Louis hums, he laughs against his lips.  
  
"Nobody's stopping you." he points out, tracing his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. It always makes Harry moan.  
  
Louis does it again.  
  
"I have to go." Harry repeats, holding him close, brushing their noses together, then their lips. "Unless you're in the mood for losing tonight."  
  
God, he's so hot when he gets cocky.  
  
"Not losing." Louis retorts, pulling on his curls. "Not now that I'm so close."  
  
Harry chuckles, he kisses his neck until Louis pushes him away. "But you're all hot and bothered." Harry mumbles, squeezing his ass this time. Louis' willpower takes a hard hit.  
  
He considers it for a moment, he actually considers it.  
  
He holds his breath as Harry's hand sneaks past his pants, and then his briefs, brushing against his hole for an agonizing second. "Is this where you want me?"  
  
Louis' panting now, running out of breath and energies to fight him.  
  
He nods, "Yes, fuck." he says, barely fighting the urge to scream when Harry's hand leaves his ass.  
  
"Yeah?" Harry insists, pressing himself against him, as if Louis didn't notice his raging boner already.  
  
Feeling it against his thigh only makes it worse.  
  
Fuck.  
  
  
"Want me inside?" Harry asks, voice so low Louis shivers.  
  
"I want you out." he chokes out, forcing himself to finally push Harry away. "Out."

  
  


 

On Friday Harry tells him to pick one of the recipes he taught him and cook something for him.  
  
Louis gives him a disappointed look.  
  
"My fridge is empty, Harry." he reminds him, because Harry should know by now. Louis never has real food in his house.  
  
Harry frowns.  
  
"I brought fresh veggies and pasta and some meat." he explains, lifting his bag up from the floor. "Who do you think I am?"  
  
Louis leans against the table then, not missing the way Harry subtly checks him out, and "I'm sorry." he says, with a small pout. "Don't get mad."  
  
Harry looks confused. Oh, come on.  
  
Louis scoffs.  
  
He turns around, he bends over the table, he wiggles his ass.  
  
Harry's jaw drops.  
  
"What are you doing." he says, more to himself than to him.  
  
Louis looks over his shoulder, taking in his vulnerable expression, the way his chest started heaving.  
  
"Are you mad, daddy?" he teases, holding back his laughter.  
  
Harry swallows dry.  
  
"Are you gonna spank me?" Louis insists, swaying his hips a little, but it's enough to make Harry blush.  
  
Oh, no, wait a second.  
  
Why is he blushing, why is he looking the opposite way.  
  
"Harry?" Louis calls him, still bent over the table. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Yup." Harry mutters, clearing his throat.  
  
Oh God.  
  
Louis hopes it's not what he thinks.  
  
"Hey." he says, waiting for Harry to look at him. Harry does, so Louis arches his back.  
  
"So? Where's that spanking?" he insists.  
  
This is important.  
  
This is a fucking deal breaker.  
  
Harry starts coughing, then he tries to laugh a little, but it doesn't last for long.  
  
"Harry." Louis says. "Spank me."  
  
Harry just stands there like an idiot, he just stares at him and Louis has no intention of letting this go. No way.  
  
"Harry." He repeats. "Spank me." He commands.  
  
Harry bites his lip, he shrugs.  
  
"I don't...what if I hurt you?"  
  
Oh God.  
  
Oh God, no.  
  
Louis finally gives up, he walks up to him.  
  
"What kind of vanilla sex have you been having, exactly?"

  
  


 

"Your sauce turned out great." Harry comments, cleaning his mouth.  
  
Louis is traumatized.  
  
It can't be.  
  
"Have you ever used sex toys in the bedroom?" he asks, biting on his nails.  
  
Harry shakes his head.  
  
"Next time go easy with the salt, though." He says.  
  
Louis can't believe it.  
  
"How about roleplay? You've tried roleplay, right?"  
  
Harry offers him a little embarrassed smile, he shakes his head again.  
  
"Pasta's perfect, good job." he says.  
  
Screw the pasta.  
  
"Screw the pasta, Harry!" Louis snaps, taking his plate away from him. "Have you tried bondage?"  
  
No, no, of course not.  
  
"A little domination?"  
  
No, God forbid.  
  
"Dirty talk?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, of course I've done that."  
  
Oh. Good.  
  
But Harry's judgment is not reliable.  
  
Louis gives him a suspicious look.  
  
"Like what?" he asks.  
  
Harry arches his eyebrows.  
  
"Want me to tell you the exact words?"  
  
"Yes, Harry, that's all I'm asking!"  
  
Please, let him be good at this, at least this.  
  
Harry chews on his lower lip for a while, he thinks about it.  
  
"Do you, umh," he starts, as his eyes drift away. "Do you like it?" he continues. "You like my cock, yeah?"  
  
"Umh, okay. What else?" Louis encourages. "Go on."  
  
Harry takes a sharp breath.  
  
He says nothing.  
  
Louis is shocked.  
  
"That's it?!" he yells, jumping up from his chair. "You're kidding me right?!"  
  
Harry crosses his arms.  
  
"My ex boyfriend wasn't into that kind of thing." He argues.  
  
Louis squints his eyes.  
  
"Everybody is into that kind of thing, Harry!"  
  
Okay, he might be shouting, but how could he keep calm at this point.  
  
This is wrong, so, so wrong.  
  
"I'm not." Harry retorts.  
  
Oh, so he's getting defensive now. Okay, Louis knows how to fix it.  
  
"You love it." he states, getting closer to him. "You fucking love it." he repeats, climbing on his lap.  
  
Harry still looks somehow offended.  
  
Poor thing, Louis shouldn't have been so harsh.  
  
He looks at him for a while, but Harry won't look back, so Louis dives both hands into his hair, he presses a small kiss to his mouth.  
  
"Don't you like it?" he whispers, rocking his hips gently. "When I tell you I want you to fuck me?"  
  
Harry's being stubborn, but his body betrays him.  
  
Louis sucks a small bruise into his neck.  
  
"Want you to open me up, first. How am I gonna take that huge cock of yours, if you don't?"  
  
Yes, that's it.  
  
Harry's eyes are on him now, pupils dilating.  
  
That's it.  
  
"And I really wanna take it, I want all of it, want you to split me open."  
  
Harry tries to hide it, but Louis hears him moan.  
  
He kisses him, forcing his tongue into his mouth.  
  
Harry might be putting up a fight, but his cock gave up long ago.  
  
"Are you gonna hold me still?" Louis asks him, dragging his hands down Harry's stomach. "Make sure I take it?"  
  
"Okay." Harry sighs. "I fucking love it."  
  
Louis leaves a tiny kiss on his mouth then, he climbs off.  
  
"I fucking love it too." He informs him. "So you'd better work on it."

  
  


 

One week to go.  
  
A week's nothing.  
  
It's not even an actual week.  
  
It's just a Tuesday, a Wednesday and a Friday.  
  
That's it.  
  
Easy peasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add a final chapter, so I can really focus on the ending.  
> So.  
> Is Louis going to win? Is he going to lose? Is Nick the Devil? (He is)  
> Did you guys like chapter two?  
> Hugs <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES!!!  
> I MADE IT!!! IT'S OVEEEEER!!!
> 
> I know, it took me more than two weeks to update, but what about Louis? He had to wait two whole months before fucking Harry, so you guys shouldn't complain!  
> Poor Louis waited two months.  
> Or did he?  
> Yes, of course he did, come on.  
> ...  
> Or did he?  
> Go find out! <3

A week is a fucking long time when you are dealing with handsome, charming, cheeky Harry Styles.  
  
Tuesday evening never seems to end.  
  
"You know," Harry says, carefully wrapping a piece of chicken with ham. "Cooking is just like making love."  
  
Louis rolls his eyes.  
  
Here we go again.  
  
Harry's wearing that suggestive little smirk, and who the fuck calls it _making love_ , anyway?!  
  
"Because when you make love-" Harry insists, watching Louis attempt to do what he just showed him.  
  
"Do you usually whip out your cock in the kitchen, Harry?" Louis cuts him off, basically throwing the pan into the oven.  
  
Harry laughs.  
  
"No, I don't." he replies.  
  
Louis raises his eyebrows.  
  
"See?" he says. "So it's nothing like making love."  
  
Harry laughs again, he grabs him before Louis can run away, pulling him close.  
  
Louis avoids his kiss, turning his head to the side.  
  
"And it's called _fucking_. Keep up." he rants, pretending he actually wants Harry to let go of him. He actually doesn't.  
  
But Harry gets him, he smiles, he doesn't loosen his grip.  
  
"What is it?" he murmurs, smile still clinging to his plump lips. "Getting tired of waiting? I've never seen you so tense."  
  
Louis scrunches up his nose.  
  
"I've been this tense since day one." he retorts. "Can't wait to have you naked in my bed."  
  
Harry smiles again, but he's getting nervous now.  
  
Louis won't let that go to waste.  
  
He leans forward, pressing himself against him, making Harry stumble and bang his back against the counter.  
  
"What is it?" he says, splaying both hands on his chest. "Getting impatient?"  
  
Harry stares back at him, eyes going big and dark. He licks his lips then, and Louis forgets he's leading the game for a moment.  
  
He shakes his fringe out of his eyes, letting them travel up and down Harry's body.  
  
Then he looks at his face again, he traces his clenched jaw with the tip of one finger.  
  
"How do you want me?" he asks, as Harry's hands find their way to his hips.  
  
That's kind of an answer, isn't it.  
  
"On all fours?" Louis wonders, slowly swaying his hips against Harry's crotch, making sure his body is responding the way he wants.  
  
It clearly is.  
  
Big time.  
  
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Louis insists, too caught up in his own words to realize Harry's slowly flipping their positions.  
  
When he lifts him up on the counter Louis doesn't even try to protest. He does quite the opposite thing, to be honest, spreading his legs to let Harry settle between them.  
  
Harry grabs his thighs, he roughly yanks him forward.  
  
Okay, this is new. This is _a fucking dream_.  
  
God, Louis wishes they were naked.  
  
"What if I fucked you right now, like this." Harry says, right into his ear, forcing it right into his head.  
  
Louis inhales sharply, he curls his legs around Harry's waist, keeping him close.  
  
"If you fucked me right now," he answers, sneaking his hands under Harry's shirt to softly scratch at the smooth skin. "It wouldn't even fit, baby."  
  
That has Harry groaning, and _fuck_ , Louis wants to hear that again, possibly while bouncing on his cock.  
  
"I'm too tight." he presses, letting his nails dig in a little deeper into Harry's back.  
  
And he's not even saying it to rile him up, he really did get too tight, to the point where the little pink dildo Nick gave him can barely make it past his rim.  
  
To the point where Harry would need to fucking wreck him to get it inside him, and that isn't supposed to make him this hot.  
  
"But I don't care," he huffs out, as Harry keeps rubbing himself against him. "I'd just take it." he adds, tipping his head back to make space for Harry's mouth.  
  
Harry sucks a bruise into his neck, and now he's fucking moaning, he's fucking winning. Because Louis is done.  
  
Screw it.  
  
"You win." he just says, shaking his head. "I'm out."  
  
That's when Harry smiles, he presses a kiss on that same spot he was torturing just a moment ago and "No, you're not." he tells him.  
  
What is this now.  
  
"Yes, I am!" Louis shrieks, pulling on his shirt to keep him from moving.  
  
Harry grabs his hands, he forces them back down into Louis' lap.  
  
"We can't do it now." he explains, leaving another small kiss on his forehead.  
  
Louis is about to slap him - _is Harry actually rejecting him_? - but he doesn't, because a sharp  
  
_Bing_!  
  
cuts through the silence, startling him.  
  
Harry steps back, he puts on his ridiculous oven mitts and "Chicken's done!" he beams, turning his back on him.  
  
Louis seriously underestimated him.

  
  


 

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you." Harry accuses him, pointing one of his beautifully long fingers at him.  
  
Louis scoffs.  
  
"Always." he admits, stabbing what's left of his chicken. "And so are you." he adds, with a sly smile.  
  
Harry's laughter quickly fills up the room, followed by a small kick on Louis' foot.  
  
"I kinda wanna lose." Harry tells him, suddenly lowering his tone of voice.  
  
Louis stretches his legs under the table, subtly trying to find again some contact, _any_ kind of physical contact will do, and "Yeah?" he chirps. "Why?"  
  
Harry wastes a few seconds sipping on his glass of water, piling their empty plates together, fidgeting with a ring.  
  
"If I win," he finally says, smiling as Louis presses his ankle against his. "I'm getting something I'm not sure I really want."  
  
Louis gasps, he immediately withdraws his legs.  
  
Harry laughs again, nervously this time.  
  
"No!" he yells, leaning forward to catch his hand. "I'm not talking about you! Of course I want...you." he clarifies, lowering his gaze for a brief moment.  
  
Louis exhales, and Jesus Christ, that sure counts as a near death experience.  
  
Harry's looking at him again, dimples trying to show, fingers tracing the back of Louis' hand.  
  
It takes Louis a while to get his mouth working.  
  
"What is it, then?" he asks him, forcing himself to focus on what Harry has to say and not what he seems to be doodling on his skin.  
  
So he squeezes his hand for a few seconds, like _bye, I'm gonna miss you, be back soon, I promise_ , and he leans back.  
  
Harry stares at him, gaze not burning but steadily getting warmer, and Louis can't possibly actually _miss him_.  
  
He's right there, he's right fucking there.  
  
But he won't talk yet, and yes, Louis _misses him_. What is going on with him.  
  
He tries not to think about it too hard, as he gets up and starts moving, only coming to a stop once he's sitting on Harry's lap, one arm thrown over his broad shoulders.  
  
Much better.  
  
"What's your prize, then." he presses, clearing his throat to get that weird lump out of it.  
  
Harry's already touching him, the bastard, one hand holding his thighs together, the other moving slowly on his back.  
  
Again, this would be a million time better if they were naked.  
  
"Nick always makes fun of me." he says at some point, just when Louis was considering biting on his lips to get him to talk. "Says I'm a hopeless romantic."  
  
Louis scrunches up his nose, wondering if he should keep it to himself, what Nick says about him. Maybe Harry wouldn't like to hear that. Probably not.  
  
"But that's just who I am, you know." Harry continues, leaving a small kiss on Louis' shoulder.  
  
"I love having a boyfriend. Going out, eating together, buying him presents, talking, cuddling."  
  
Louis rolls his eyes, but it's just an attempt to hide from him, because he could never admit his heart is racing only at the thought of doing all of those things.  
  
With Harry.  
  
Going out with Harry, maybe holding his hand, feeling proud to walk beside _my hot boyfriend, look at my beautiful boyfriend, stop looking at my boyfriend, I'll cut you_ , maybe kissing him in the middle of the street, shocking old ladies and breaking teen girls' hearts.  
  
_Sorry, girls, I know, the best ones are always gay_.  
  
Harry stopped talking.  
  
Oh, and he's raising his eyebrows at him.  
  
"I'm listening, go on." Louis lies, nodding his head.  
  
Harry chuckles.  
  
"No, you're not. What are you thinking about?"  
  
Cuddling with Harry, under a nice, warm blanket, bodies pressed together, stealing soft kisses.  
  
Then maybe things start getting heated, maybe Harry grabs his ass.  
  
"Nothing, go on." Louis insists.  
  
Harry doesn't look too convinced, but he listens to him.  
  
"Nick knows these things, he knows me." He says, dragging his hand down and settling on the small of Louis' back.  
  
"So if I win," he finally says, as Louis unconsciously digs his nails into his own arm. "He said he's going to introduce me to this guy."  
  
Oh.  
  
Oh, that's-  
  
Well, that sucks.  
  
/Nick Grimshaw is the Devil/.  
  
"What guy." Louis blurts out, furrowing his eyebrows.  
  
Harry holds him a bit closer.  
  
"According to him, he's supposed to be my soulmate."  
  
Oh.  
  
Great.  
  
That's just great.  
  
"So what, I'm like a rite of passage? Your first and last casual shag before you settle down?"  
  
He's so _hurt_.  
  
He tries to get out of his lap, but Harry holds him in place, he grabs his wrists.  
  
"Lou, hey." he whispers, pulling him even closer. "I don't care anymore."  
  
Louis scoffs, he struggles a bit more to free himself, but it's no use.  
  
"So you're just going to say no to that? Meeting your _soulmate_?" he argues, finally managing to move his arms enough to smack a hand on Harry's chest. Fuck him. Beautiful, sexy, romantic asshole.  
  
Harry laughs, he laughs at him, because Louis' rage always seems to amuse him for some reason.  
  
He yanks on his wrists, forcing his lips on Louis' mouth.  
  
Louis is still mad. He loved that, he wants more of that, but he is still very mad, okay?  
  
Harry shakes his head.  
  
"Can't you see how much I like you?"  
  
Okay, slightly less mad than before.  
  
"I can't wait to see you, I'm happy just thinking about you."  
  
Yes, okay, that makes it even better, we're getting there.  
  
Louis shrugs, he bites his lip.  
  
He wants more. There it is. He wants Harry to keep going.  
  
Harry knows, he _must know_ , because he presses another kiss to his lips, he lets go of him just so he can bring a hand on his face.  
  
Louis likes him so much, so much. He's making googly eyes at him, he's quite sure.  
  
"I really want to be your boyfriend." Harry concludes, with a huge smile lighting up his face.  
  
God.  
  
Louis doesn't _like_ him.  
  
He swallows dry, shifting once again in his lap, diverting his eyes just for a few seconds, before he _needs_ to bring them back on Harry's face.  
  
And it feels the same every time he looks at him, he feels warm and jittery and lucky just for the fact he gets to spend time with him, having his attention, making him smile.  
  
There's no room left for doubts at this point: Louis doesn't _like_ Harry.  
  
Louis is _in love_ with him.

  
  


 

It's a big fucking thing to deal with.  
  
Louis has never been in love, no matter how many times he's tried.  
  
And maybe, probably, that is exactly why: he tried to make it happen.  
  
He's been through the dating and the meeting each other's friends and the _let's get a puppy_ , which is usually the part where he doesn't answer and plans to disappear.  
  
It never worked.  
  
That's why he doesn't even try anymore.  
  
He still kinda hopes a spark is going to appear out of nowhere, somewhere between fucking and kicking a guy out of his house. But that never happens.  
  
Liam almost made him think he could do the boyfriend thing but it wasn't long before Louis realized he just didn't want that.  
  
He didn't want Liam in his bed in the morning, picking him up from work, asking him "where are you going?" any time he texted he was headed out.  
  
That's why he broke up with him.  
  
Then he felt lonely, he felt wrong.  
  
That's why he never told Nick he's the one who broke up with him.  
  
But maybe, just maybe, Nick knew these things all along.  
  
And maybe, _maybe_ , Nick knew exactly what he was doing when he introduced Harry to him.  
  
Maybe Harry is what Louis' been looking for all this time.  
  
Here he is.  
  
Standing tall and proud and simply wonderful, breathtaking smile as he "Louis Tomlinson." greets him.  
  
There's no need to force it, this time.  
  
Harry just happened to him, he never claimed a place into his life, he just found it, right there, made just for him.  
  
And here he is, beaming, while showing him "Aren't they the most beautiful strawberries you've ever seen?" his idea for Wednesday night, eyes sparkling, dimples deepening.  
  
Here he is, Harry Styles, happening into his life.  
  
Louis is so in love with him.

  
  


 

If they hadn't eaten most of the strawberry pie, they wouldn't have ended up splayed on the couch, whining and groaning at how full they are.  
  
"Worth it." Louis huffs out, rubbing a hand on his tummy.  
  
Harry laughs, but he looks in pain while doing it, which is even funnier to Louis.  
  
"If I could move," he tells him, pausing to breathe in. "I'd be all over you right now."  
  
Harry smiles, slow and wide, almost proudly.  
  
Louis squints his eyes.  
  
"Why aren't _you_ all over me?" he complains, kicking his shoes off.  
  
Harry bites his lip.  
  
"Be careful what you wish for." he admonishes, keeping his eyes on his face.  
  
Louis will not strip naked.  
  
"You know what, Harry Styles?" He says, folding his arms behind his head.  
  
Harry raises his eyebrows, he bumps his foot against Louis' ankle.  
  
"Once this is over and I get my hands on you," Louis continues, letting his eyes slip closed. "You're gonna miss these days, when you could just wear clothes in my apartment."  
  
He feels Harry's hand brushing against his knee, moving up to settle on his thigh.  
  
Louis will not guide it up, until it's pressed against his cock.  
  
"And you'll regret not fucking me when you had the chance." Louis adds, cracking one eye open to catch a glimpse of Harry's expression. "Two months, lost forever."  
  
Harry's hand suddenly abandons him and at first, when he finds himself pressed against the couch cushions and barely able to breathe, Louis doesn't really get what's going on.  
  
Then he looks over his shoulder, and _he can't fucking believe it_.  
  
Harry's gonna do it.  
  
Louis holds his breath, he wiggles his bum for him.  
  
"Go ahead." he encourages, but Harry doesn't need that, he's made up his mind already, his hand is halfway there.  
  
And then he does it.  
  
He smacks it against one of his butt cheeks, fast and sharp, and Louis just yelps.  
  
"Don't make me change my mind. I might still win this." Harry threatens, getting closer to press a kiss to the back of his neck.  
  
Louis seriously, obviously, terribly underestimated him.

  
  


 

"Do you actually want to learn how to cook?" Harry asks him later that night, as Louis tries to kick him out and make him stay at the same time. It's a tough decision.  
  
He pulls on Harry's necklace, he pokes his face with a finger, "You're-" cute, he almost says.  
  
"You're a chef, right?" he improvises. "If you become my boyfriend you'll be the one who cooks all the time, anyway."  
  
Harry smiles at that, he lets Louis poke at his dimples a bit longer.  
  
"If I become your boyfriend?" he asks. "If?"  
  
Louis bites his bottom lip, trying to hide his own smile.  
  
He looks up at him.  
  
"First I have to make sure you have what it takes." he tells him, shrugging a shoulder, dragging his hands down to his stomach.  
  
Harry holds his breath for a moment.  
  
"I have everything you need." he states, pressing a hand to the back of Louis' neck. "Maybe even more than that."  
  
That has Louis giggling like an idiot, withdrawing his hands as if he got burned.  
  
It is hot in here after all.  
  
"We'll see." he finally says, raising his eyebrows.  
  
Harry is staring at him, a hint of a smile curling his lips, hands reaching out to grab him.  
  
Louis doesn't even wait for him to touch him, he just steps into his arms, raising his head to get another kiss.  
  
It's been at least five minutes since the last one, he's getting cranky.  
  
Harry presses his lips to his mouth, quickly, too quickly, pulling back way too soon.  
  
"Why don't we go on a date?" he wonders, threading his fingers into Louis' hair, which is not fair play at all.  
  
Louis shivers, he sighs.  
  
"Tomorrow night." Harry presses, letting his hand brush against Louis' ear, his neck, his side.  
  
Louis hums, he realizes his eyes are closed and he should definitely open them.  
  
"Can't." he blurts out. "I'm working till midnight."  
  
Harry calls him Cinderella then, which would normally result in a black eye, but it's him, so Louis sucks on his lips instead.  
  
"We could still go for a walk." Harry points out, and he's sneaking a hand under Louis' shirt this time, brushing the back of his hand against the warm skin.  
  
Louis doesn't even remember agreeing but, as it turns out, somewhere between the wet kisses and the desperate dry humping, he did.  
  
"See you tomorrow, then." Harry reminds him, with a smile so big, so excited, Louis can do nothing more than "Okay." agree.

  
  


 

Louis's gone out with plenty of guys.  
  
He's good on dates, he's good company and people hardly get bored around him.  
  
Especially when the date ends in his bed.  
  
It's no big deal, he's a pro.  
  
The flirting, the chatting, the suggestive little glances, the occasional hand on the guy's thigh as they're speaking.  
  
It's usually easy.  
  
But this.  
  
This is totally different. This is not some random guy he met at the pub or at one of Nick's parties.  
  
This is Harry Styles, gorgeous, young, sweet, sexy, guy-of-his-dreams Harry Styles.  
  
This is the guy he, Louis Slut Tomlinson, _fell in love_ with.  
  
So, yeah, he's freaking out.  
  
His shift ends a little past midnight, thanks to fucking Greg who couldn't get the printer to work after five years on the job, and Louis darts to the restroom as soon as he gets the chance.  
  
He tears his work clothes off in a matter of seconds, slipping into his tightest jeans - which _mysteriously_ got smaller - and his burgundy T-shirt, the one that shows a bit of his collarbones. The same collarbones Harry might want to touch or lick or bite later, who knows. Fingers crossed.  
  
He fixes his hair the best way he can, he frantically sprays cologne in the air just so he can dash through it, and he runs for the door.  
  
Harry's waiting for him outside.  
  
Louis fights his facial muscles to keep his smile right where it is, because if he lets it slip away he's just going to look the same way he's feeling.  
  
There's not a word to define it, the best way to describe his mood right now would probably be _fuck, look at that, Jesus fuck, oh my God, he's smiling, God, so tall, Jesus_.  
  
He's going to keep his thoughts to himself.  
  
As he walks towards him he realizes he's never seen Harry in the open, so the simple fact that the wind makes his curls move leaves him baffled.  
  
He's never seen his hair move.  
  
Wow.  
  
That looks so pretty.  
  
"Louis Tomlinson." Harry greets him, reaching out to get his backpack out of his hands.  
  
Louis only blinks at him at first, then he finally remembers his line.  
  
"Harry Styles." he blurts out, nervously looking over his shoulder to discover what he thought would happen is obviously happening: half of his coworkers have gathered at the entrance to stick their noses into his business.  
  
If it wasn't so dark he's quite sure his glare would set them on fire.  
  
He turns around to look at Harry again and "Shall we?" he urges, before Harry asks him why a dozen people are staring at them.  
  
But, against all odds, Harry smiles back at him, he tells him "You look stunning." and he pulls him in for a kiss.  
  
A good, deep, long kiss that leaves him standing on wobbly legs.  
  
He's out of breath and he's definitely blushing, so he just lets Harry take his hand and he quietly follows him to his car.

  
  


 

"I will never forgive you for this." Harry mutters once he's parked the car.  
  
Louis leans over to peck him on the mouth.  
  
It's nothing personal, he's just hungry.  
  
Okay, it is a _little bit_ personal. But he's been dreaming about this since they first talked about it and he needs to see Harry's face when it happens.  
  
And Harry's face is just priceless.  
  
He won't stop chewing his bottom lip and shrugging his shoulders as he tries to make his mind, he's so lost Louis decides to step in and he orders him the biggest burger on the Mc Donald's menu. Nothing personal.

  
  


 

It keeps on happening.  
  
The wind is definitely not on Louis' side, because it makes his fringe part in the middle - which is the worst thing that could happen to him tonight - but it makes Harry look like some kind of Disney prince, a handsome, curly, long haired prince that's staring at him because _fuck_ Louis stopped in the middle of a sentence again.  
  
"As I was s-saying," he stutters, trying to get over the fact Harry also exists on the outside. "As I was saying..." he tries again, not having a fucking clue about what he was saying.  
  
Harry kisses him again.

  
  


 

They were supposed to have a walk, maybe get a drink, spend a couple hours together and see each other the next day for their last cooking lesson.  
  
Instead they got stuck in the Mc Donald's parking lot, sitting on the ground, watching cars go by, chatting and flirting and kissing until the sun starts coming up.  
  
So it's not the date Louis had in mind.  
  
Still, he never wants it to end.

  
  


 

Harry drives him home at six in the morning, after Louis almost took his phone out to snap a picture of Harry's beautiful face at the break of dawn, after Louis blackmailed Greg into covering his shift, after they stopped at Starbucks for breakfast and almost fell asleep on their table.  
  
When the car stops Louis makes a defeated noise.  
  
"I know." Harry whispers, taking his hands off the wheel so he can cup Louis' face and kiss him some more. "We're doing it again soon." he promises, as Louis just hums and basically melts into his seat.  
  
"In a proper restaurant's parking lot next time." Harry adds, laughing against his lips.  
  
Louis is so tired, his eyes keep on closing, his limbs feel heavy and kinda numb, his brain stopped putting up with him after the cheeseburger.  
  
"Why don't you come upstairs?" he says into Harry's mouth, right before slipping his tongue back inside of it.  
  
Harry laughs into the kiss, he pulls back with a serious expression though.  
  
"I don't mean to sound rude," he starts, sighing as soon as he notices Louis' pout. "But my cock's been hard since I first saw you six hours ago and if I come upstairs there's no way I'm not fucking you."  
  
Louis would like to laugh but "Aw." he comments, tilting his head. "You're so sweet."  
  
Disney prince indeed.

  
  


 

"You are such a child." Louis teases him, bursting into laughter at Harry's outraged expression.  
  
"Try and tell me they're the same, I dare you." Harry retorts, crossing his big, muscular arms on his wide, sexy chest.  
  
Louis hasn't been doing so good with his sexual appetite since last night's date, by the way.  
  
But he tries to focus, he shrugs and "No, they're not." he replies, placing his empty plate into the sink.  
  
Harry's already raising his eyebrows and giving him a smug little smile for the invaluable lesson he's just given him with a delicious, homemade steak sandwich, when Louis bites his lip and shakes his head at him.  
  
"That cheeseburger was way better." he concludes, fighting another wave of laughter when Harry's face drops into utter desperation.  
  
He's so easy to fuck with.  
  
Hopefully he's also easy to fuck on, and under, and _a lot_ of ways they're going to try tomorrow.  
  
God, it's so close Louis' cock is about to tear a hole into his briefs.  
  
"You're kidding." Harry mumbles, furrowing his eyebrows. "Take it back."  
  
Louis blows him a kiss and "Nope." he says, raising his hands up immediately after. "And do not even think about play fighting." he warns him, because Harry was obviously planning to chase him around the house.  
  
"Why not?" he whines, pulling Louis into his arms all the same.  
  
Louis rolls his eyes at him, he slaps Harry's hands away from his hips.  
  
"Because," he spits out, narrowing his eyes. "my body cannot survive any kind of physical contact at this point. I'm not risking it, Harry Styles."  
  
With that said, he turns his back on him, determined to make it through their last lesson without any kind of unnecessary suffering.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, _wants him_ to suffer.  
  
That's probably why he pulls him back by the back of his neck, he shoves him against the wall, he kisses him for so long Louis has to slap him and push him away and "Take it back." he repeats, smirking.

  
  


 

"It's not that bad, come on." Louis insists, shifting on the couch to get a better look of his face. It's just such a great face to stare at.  
  
Harry levels him with a disappointed look.  
  
"It's not even food, Louis." He states. "It's one of the worst things that happened to the industry."  
  
God, he gets so intense when it comes to Mc Donald's.  
  
Louis scooches over until he's almost into his lap, looking up at him with big, blue eyes, a tiny smile on his face.  
  
"It's still where we've had our first date, isn't it?" he reminds him, forcing him into a kiss when Harry threatens to leave.  
  
"Never again." he mumbles even as they're still kissing.  
  
Louis pulls back, and he's climbed over his at some point apparently, he gently rocks his hips because he can't help it.  
  
"My boyfriend must take me to Mc Donald's at least once a week." he provokes him, wincing when Harry pushes him off his lap.  
  
"Your boyfriend will." Harry retorts, with a fake little smile. "He just won't eat that shit again."  
  
Louis scoffs.  
  
"Is it really the worst thing you've ever had?!" he snaps.  
  
It's not really about fast food, more about the fact he was having fun with Harry's cock nestled between his butt cheeks.  
  
"No, but it's in the top five. The worst thing I've ever had is actually sushi pizza."  
  
Louis gasps at that.  
  
"Who would ruin pizza with disgusting sushi!"  
  
Harry laughs, he gets closer to him to press a kiss to his mouth.  
  
"What about your worst kiss?" Louis asks him, still tracing Harry's bottom lip with one finger.  
  
Harry leans back against the cushions.  
  
"How did you go from sushi pizza to kissing?" he questions, corking an eyebrow.  
  
Louis pinches his arm.  
  
"I'm trying to make conversation, you prick." he hisses, sticking his elbow into his chest when Harry goes in for another kiss.  
  
"My worst kiss was definitely my first kiss." Harry tells him, reaching out to brush his fringe to the side.  
  
Why does he have to touch him all the time?!  
  
Louis is going crazy here, in case he hasn't fucking noticed.  
  
Sure, he's the one who was dry humping him a minute ago, but Harry's not helping.  
  
"What, you stuck your whole tongue down his throat, didn't you." Louis comments, suddenly getting curious.  
  
Harry smile at him.  
  
"No, not at all." he says. "I actually had no idea I was supposed to use my tongue."  
  
Louis' mouth drops open.  
  
"I know, I was a dork." Harry adds, and well, he's read his mind.  
  
"What about your worst fuck?" Louis asks him.  
  
_Shit_.  
  
Harry fucking told him. He's only slept with two people.  
  
He's going to think Louis wants him to talk shit about his ex boyfriend.  
  
Which is true.  
  
But definitely not what Louis wanted him to believe, fuck.  
  
Harry doesn't seem bothered by his question at all, thank God, and he's actually giggling like an idiot.  
  
"My worst fuck was a really bad one." he explains, rubbing a hand over his face like he's reliving the experience.  
  
"Oh God, what did you do." Louis blurts out, asking himself if Harry knew he was supposed to use his dick this time around.  
  
"First of all," Harry says, frowning. "I was shit-faced."  
  
That's a good excuse. A lot of Louis' sex encounters started that way.  
  
He nods, making an effort to look just interested and not also ready to make fun of him.  
  
"Nick invited me to this party and there were a million people, I swear."  
  
"Yeah, I'm familiar with Nick's parties." Louis reassures him, encouraging him to go on with a smile.  
  
"I started drinking because I was feeling out of place, I suppose." Harry continues, shaking his head at himself. "The fact that my love life was going downhill only made it worse. At some point I was so drunk I even forgot I had a boyfriend."  
  
Woah.  
  
Louis didn't mean to make a high-pitched noise, but it's too late and it happened.  
  
"Yeah." Harry sighs, pressing his lips together.  
  
"Is that why..."  
  
"Kind of." Harry tells him before Louis has the guts to ask him. "But it was a long time coming."  
  
Louis' wishing he could go back and never start this conversation.  
  
If Harry gets sad because he starts thinking about his ex again Louis is just going to jump out the window.  
  
Luckily, Harry's smiling, he's reaching out again to wrap his arm around Louis' shoulder, bring him close.  
  
"As you can imagine, I don't remember most of it." he starts again. "But I do remember hiding in Nick's walk-in closet. I also remember not being able to be on top because my body refused to cooperate. So I lied on the floor and it took me about an hour to put the condom on. Then the guy climbed on top of me and he yelled at me for-" he stops talking all of a sudden, to give him an apologetic smile. "Well, he got angry because he said I was too big and it wasn't fun at all. He still decided to ride me though and, of course, I came after ten seconds. But it's not over, yet. As soon as I came-"  
  
"Nick busted you." Louis interrupts him, as his eyes go wide.  
  
Harry sighs.  
  
"Yup. Nick busted us."  
  
Louis swallows dry. It can't be.  
  
It just can't be.  
  
When Harry starts talking again Louis' kinda shaking.  
  
"Also, he-"  
  
"He made you mop the floor." Louis cuts him off again.  
  
Harry frowns.  
  
"How do you-"  
  
It's not possible.  
  
It just. No.  
  
It can't be true.  
  
But, God, it _must_ be.  
  
It clearly _is_ true.  
  
"Harry." Louis whispers, as his heart thumps so hard he can hear it. "Harry." he repeats, taking a shaky breath. "It was me."  
  
Harry's face must be the exact replica of his.  
  
Mouth agape, eyes wide, shock taking over.  
  
"We're each other's worst fuck." Louis tells him, covering his mouth with a hand.  
  
This can't be happening.

  
  


Nick Grimshaw is the scum of the Earth.

  


  
  


 

He will never forgive him.  
  
How could he?  
  
This is the worst thing Nick has ever done to him, it's the worst thing anyone has ever done to him, Louis wants to fucking slaughter him.  
  
But first.  
  
"No way I'm your worst fuck." he hisses, straddling Harry while he's still in shock. "I'm your best fuck, the best fuck you could ever hope to have in your whole life, in your darkest fantasies." he rambles, wiggling his ass on Harry's cock, which is the only part of him that didn't suffer from the trauma.  
  
"I'll show you." he continues, pulling on Harry's hair to get him to react. "Gonna fuck you so good, so hard."  
  
And Harry does react.  
  
Weakly, but he does.  
  
"It was you." he utters, as Louis grabs his hands and touches himself with them, dragging them down his chest and his stomach and "We were drunk." he tells him. "Gonna make up for it, yeah? Harry."  
  
Harry looks like he's seen a ghost.  
  
An ugly, awkward, unexpected ghost straight from his past.  
  
"Harry." Louis repeats, bringing both hands to his face. "Listen to me."  
  
Harry finally blinks his eyes, he swallows.  
  
"You know what's gonna happen now?" Louis asks him, staring into his eyes.  
  
"We're gonna make up for it?" Harry asks him, he _asks_ , when he should fucking know.  
  
Louis gives him a little slap.  
  
"Which means?" he hisses, wiggling his ass again, getting a nice feel of his cock.  
  
"That we're going to have sex."  
  
Louis slaps him again, a bit harder, he points a finger at him.  
  
Harry nods.  
  
"We're gonna fuck." he corrects himself.  
  
Louis sighs, he smiles, he laughs, he claps his hands, he kisses him, he bites on his lips.  
  
"Yeah." he mewls, sucking on Harry's tongue.  
  
Then something shifts.  
  
Something goes off in Harry's brain and Louis positively screams.  
  
"Gonna fuck you." Harry agrees, smacking a hand against his bum, standing up from the couch and lifting Louis up as well, making a quick turn to hold him up against the wall. "Tonight." he adds, as if Louis wasn't clear about that. "Now." he insists, pressing Louis against the wall, rubbing their erections together through too many layers of clothes.  
  
It's fucking happening.  
  
Now.  
  
Right now.  
  
_Finally_.

  
  


 

Harry is big.  
  
His drunk self from a year ago wasn't completely wrong.  
  
But he did say Harry was _too_ big.  
  
Well, fuck that.  
  
Louis' been dreaming of taking this cock up his ass for the past two, long, dreadful, endless months and he's going to take it at all costs.  
  
Such a beautiful cock.  
  
Big and long and thick and _God_.  
  
Louis took it out of Harry's briefs with a moan, he stared at it for an eternity and he almost wanted to cry from how _gorgeous_ it is, he still can't believe it.  
  
They've been in his bedroom for five minutes and he already shoved a bottle of lube in Harry's hands, there's a dozen condoms on the bed, he's still in his clothes, Harry too, except for his cock, and Louis just cannot wait a second longer.  
  
"Lie down on my bed." he pants, shoving on his chest. "Wanna blow you."  
  
Harry doesn't need to hear that twice, he kick off his shoes and he throws himself on the bed, attacking Louis' mouth the moment he climbs on top of him.  
  
They've exchanged passionate kisses before, they've actually made out like horny teenagers a hundred times, but this is just _dirty_.  
  
It's a mess of tongue and spit and moans and wanting more, more, more.  
  
Louis breaks the kiss, he takes Harry's shirt off and _Jesus_.  
  
Every time he lays his eyes on a new part of his body he feels like crying. It would be tears of joy, but still, he needs to get a grip.  
  
He drags his hands up and down his chest, he crouches down to kiss it and then further down, leaving a wet trail on his stomach, hands pressed to his abs, feeling the way Harry's breathing, frantically, desperately.  
  
He keeps going down, his objective clear in his mind, still standing tall and hard, only waiting for him to do something with it.  
  
What a gorgeous cock.  
  
Louis wraps a hand around it, he strokes it slowly, then he wraps his other hand around it, 'cause it's so big, so warm, he is _in love_ with it.  
  
Harry needs to know, he deserves to know.  
  
Louis strokes him faster, he tightens his grip a little bit, licking his lips just at the thought of getting his mouth on it.  
  
"Harry, I fucking love your cock." he sighs, glancing at Harry's flushed face just for a moment, before he bends down.  
  
He just wants it in his mouth, down his throat, all of it, but he needs to go easy at first, he needs to make it good.  
  
So he starts with a small kiss on the tip, how could he not give it a kiss, and then he swipes his tongue over it, he whimpers when some precum hits his taste buds.  
  
He wants all of it.  
  
He's barely breathing, heart thumping furiously, mouth watering.  
  
He gets his cock nice and wet then, licking it base to tip, once, twice, using his lips and his tongue and his entire willpower not to stick it down his throat. He wants it so much, so fucking much.  
  
He takes a breath, lifting his eyes up to Harry's face again, finding his green eyes already stuck on him, and he lets the tip of his cock slide into his mouth.  
  
The sound escaping Harry's throat makes Louis moan around his cock, sucking a bit harder, hand holding it in place and stroking lazily.  
  
He tastes so good.  
  
Louis vows to blow him every day, he's not going to be able to keep it out of his mouth, he's sure of it, as he starts taking more of it.  
  
He closes his eyes, breathing steadily through his nose, he pushes it deeper inside, down his throat.  
  
Harry's just going out of his mind, moaning and kicking out and "Fuck, Louis, Fuck.".  
  
Louis keeps sucking his cock, bobbing his head up and down and taking him deeper in every time, throat closing off around it, eyes starting to water, and _he doesn't give a fuck_.  
  
He wants to choke on this cock, he wants to give Harry all he can.  
  
"Stop." Harry tells him though, sitting up and carefully taking his cock out of his mouth. Louis catches his breath, he goes back for more but Harry "No, baby, stop. Gonna make me come." warns him.  
  
Oh, _fuck no_.  
  
Not happening. Not before he's put it in his ass and fucked the hell out of him.  
  
So Louis resolves on suckling on the head one last time, and then he takes Harry's pants off, while Harry struggles to get him out of his clothes as well.  
  
When they're both naked they freeze for a moment.  
  
Harry places his hands on his hips, pulling him back onto his lap, kissing him thoroughly, stopping to look at him some more.  
  
"You look perfect." he tells him, pressing a kiss to his neck and then another one to his chest. "Can't wait to be inside you."  
  
Louis is so happy, so frustrated, so overwhelmed, he doesn't know what to do, he wants, wants, wants, Harry needs to _give_.  
  
When he hears the sound of the lube bottle snapping open his eyes just shut.  
  
He can picture it, he can hear it, the sound of Harry slicking up his fingers, breathing hard against his neck, mouthing at the skin, and then he feels it, the tip of Harry's finger circling his hole, pushing, sliding inside.  
  
His whole body goes limp, his mouth goes slack, his brain just goes.  
  
He lets Harry open him up, talk him through it, as he keeps pressing kisses to his shoulder, the side of his neck, promising and telling him that "Gonna get you ready for my cock, yeah? Stretch you open, fill you up with my fingers until you loosen up a bit baby, 'cause you're so tight, such a tight little hole. We're gonna make it fit, gonna open you up." and he slides another finger inside, curling and twisting and scissoring and Louis is going to die.  
  
"That's it, you're doing so good." Harry murmurs, holding him up with his arm wrapped around him, taking his fingers out to slick them up again, and Louis doesn't even know if he's just moaning or actually talking, he has no clue, he doesn't care, he just wants Harry to keep doing what he's doing, wants to hear his voice.  
  
"Gonna put another one in, okay? Just a bit longer and then-"  
  
"Fuck me!" Louis shouts, lifting his arms to loop them around Harry's neck. "I need you inside."  
  
Harry shushes him with a kiss, as his fingers get inside him again, slowly, fighting the stretch carefully.  
  
Louis' started shaking, his muscles are going into overdrive, he feels so good he can't form words, can't open his eyes.  
  
"Almost there, baby." Harry reassures him, fucking his fingers in and out of him, going faster, probably losing his mind as much as him. "Feels good?"  
  
_Feels good?_  
  
Louis' been fighting against it all night but he can't do it anymore now, he realizes it as he feels a tear running down his cheek.  
  
It's so good he's crying, that's how good it is.  
  
He can't tell Harry but he's proving it to him, nodding his head, whining, holding tighter to him, fucking back on his fingers.  
  
Harry shoves them all the way inside him then, holding him as he shakes harder, lifting his face up to kiss him.  
  
"Ready?" he asks, looking up at him with beautifully green glossy eyes.  
  
Louis just keeps on nodding, struggling to breath, to move, desperately running his hands on the mattress until he manages to grab a condom.  
"Wanna put it on me?"  
  
Louis stares at him, he tears the corner of the wrapping with his teeth, he manages to slowly get out of his lap and rolls the condom down Harry's cock, gently pinching the tip, and he's only able to do it because he's done it so many times before, he wouldn't be able to do much else other than get Harry to fuck him right now.  
  
So that's where all his energy goes.  
  
He jumps back on him, closing his legs around him, rocking his hips as he kisses him, feeling Harry's cock slide between his cheeks, Harry's hands keeping them parted, fingers digging into the soft flesh.  
  
"Inside." Louis mewls, breathing hard against Harry's mouth, lifting his hips up. "Put it inside."  
  
Harry lifts him up completely though, he makes him lay on his back.  
  
"Wanna look at you." he tells him, easing his thighs apart and leaning over him to kiss him again. "If missionary isn't too vanilla for you." he adds, laughing into his mouth.  
  
Louis spreads his legs, he rubs his erection against Harry's flat stomach, desperately chasing some relief, asking him to _just_.  
  
Then he finally feels the tip of Harry's cock pressing against his opening, his hands fly up to grip harder on Harry's shoulders.  
  
Harry starts pushing in, he exhales as he penetrates him, and Louis does too, he breathes out, he lets it out, all of the frustration and the agony sitting heavy on his belly, he closes his eyes, he feels all of it.  
  
All of Harry's cock sliding inside of him, inch by inch, stretching him open, filling him up, until Harry's hips are flush against his ass, his hands sneaking under his thighs to lift them up, getting the angle right. Louis just lets him do it, he can do nothing but stay still, stay quiet, trust him.  
  
And Harry might be a prude, he might be a hopeless romantic, he might be vanilla but his body was made for this.  
  
His hips settle into a steady rhythm almost immediately, his hands are firm and sure as they keep Louis in place, his cock is too big in a way that makes Louis suck on his bottom lip to keep from sobbing, in a way that makes him feel so vulnerable but so full, satisfied, but still craving some more, he needs more.  
  
Harry gives him more, pushing in a bit harder, a bit deeper, a bit better with every thrust, making him feel so many things at once Louis turns into a whimpering mess.  
  
It's so good, amazing, mind-blowing, it's just started and Louis is coming.  
  
It's one of the most incredible orgasms he's ever had, it has him gasping for air, clawing at Harry's back, moaning and whimpering and shaking, as Harry makes sure to rub his stomach against his cock with every thrust, slowing down to keep it from being too much, making it intense in the most incredible way, to the point Louis blacks out for a moment after it.  
  
"God." is the first word he manages to say since Harry got inside of him and "Harry." is the second.  
  
That's all he has, really.  
  
Harry kisses him, softly this time, picking up the pace again.  
  
"Want you to come too." Louis murmurs, feeling warm and happy, so he smiles at him and Harry lets out a breathy chuckle.  
  
Louis doesn't get why at first, but it takes him just a few seconds to understand that Harry was coming already, as he shoves his face into the crook of Louis' neck, moaning against his skin and thrusting more erratically.  
  
Then he pushes all the way inside one last time, he goes still, he lets out a long, exhausted breath.  
  
They lie like that for a while, just breathing, bodies pressed together.  
  
Louis is so happy. Happy.  
  
Not just satisfied, relieved, pleased.  
  
He is happy, heart beating hard in his chest, butterflies partying in his guts, Disney prince between his thighs.  
  
He's still gonna kill Nick Grimshaw, but he's happy.  
  


  
  


 

Having Harry as a boyfriend is great.  
  
What surprised Louis the most is how easy it is, actually, all it takes is liking him.  
  
And he does like him, a whole fucking lot.  
  
Their first few months together go by in the blink of an eye, doing all of those things Harry talked about, the dating and the presents and the talking and, well, there's also the fucking, which is a huge part of their relationship now, thank you very much, Jesus.  
  
It just comes natural. It's all Louis needed, he just had no clue.  
  
So, after all, thank you Satan - a.k.a. Nick Grimshaw - as well.

  
  


 

There's one last horrible thing Nick did to him, before Louis' life took this great turn.  
  
It happened on Saturday morning, the day after he finally had sex with his soon to be boyfriend Harry Styles, it happened as soon as Louis woke up.  
  
Someone knocked on his door at 7.30 in the morning and Louis was already planning a murder while putting his sweats on to go see who it was.  
  
Who else could knock on your door at 7.30 on a Saturday morning if not the Devil in the flesh?  
  
Louis wasn't expecting to see Nick so his first reaction was being completely speechless.  
  
All Nick did was smile at him, yell "Good morning, sunshine!" and then he gave him a piece of paper.  
  
Louis just looked at it, too baffled to actually check what it was all about, too caught up in the fact he was supposed to fucking kill Nick, if he remembered correctly.  
  
But Nick didn't give him enough time to go grab a knife, as a matter of fact, he didn't give him enough time to react at all.  
  
He just shrugged, shook his head, sighed and "Harry's car is parked right outside." pointed out. "Slut."  
  
That was all.  
  
He just left, before Louis could wipe that mortified expression off his face and even try to contradict him.  
  
He went back to bed, where Harry was still sleeping, just as naked and as beautiful as he had been the previous night, and he finally looked at the piece of paper in his hands.

  
  


 

Harry thinks it's funny.  
  
Nick thinks it's just poetic.  
  
Louis thinks he needs to start planning his laser removal tattoo treatments.  
  
Because the [tattoo](https://preview.ibb.co/eYby6x/Tattoo.png) isn't just ugly as fuck. Nick also personally designed it and colored it in - probably using his niece's crayons - and, of course, he went with him to watch it get permanently inked with a humiliating reminder of his lack of control.  
  
Harry also finds it sexy though, so Louis might keep it for a little longer.

  
  


 

When Louis asked Nick why he did that, introducing them as if they had never met - which involved quite a few insults and dead threats - Nicky told him about that night.  
  
He said that yes, they were drunk, but as soon as they saw each other they immediately clicked, to the point where they spent the whole night talking and laughing and touching and acting like they were married, basically.  
  
After Nick realized none of them had any idea what the hell had happened the night before, he decided not to tell them.  
  
Because, as he told Louis, "It was obvious that you were made for each other, if I had told you the truth you would have never considered meeting again. So, I waited."  
  
He waited a fucking year, a whole fucking year, he waited long enough to make sure Harry was over his ex boyfriend and Louis was ready, according to him, to settle down.  
  
He had a whole year to come up with the perfect plan.  
  
And he made it.  
  
Louis was still furious, obviously, but all it took for him to get over it was a new deal: Nick would pay for his drinks for the next six months because, after all, Louis did make it through a whole month without fucking handsome, charming, sweet, sexy, cheeky, Disney prince Harry Styles.  
  
"And what about introducing Harry to his soulmate, you fucking prick?! What about that?" Louis argued, trying to throw a shoe in his face and missing.  
  
Nick leveled him with an unimpressed look and Louis got it, it was suddenly clear, it all made sense.  
  
It was him.  
  
It was him all along.  
  
Nick Grimshaw might be the Devil, but he sure came up with a hell of a plan.  
  
A plan so perfect, in every little detail, that it ends with him, Louis Slut Tomlinson, getting engaged to Harry Disney Prince Styles.  
  
All things considered, it was a great deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a LOT better than I was hoping for * - *  
> Jamie, I really hope you love it <3  
> And a special thanks to my girlfriend, who helped me through it and also made a beautiful drawing for the story <3
> 
> Sooooooooooo.  
> What about you guys?  
> Tell me, type a little (or huge, your choice) comment, talk to meeeeee!!!
> 
> Lots of love to all of you <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys want to share: 
> 
> [CLICK HERE <3](http://smokingluckiesalltheway.tumblr.com/post/173491809051/johnnymignotta-boyfriend-material-speechless)


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